Dust and Ashes
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: When the fate of the world rests on two men: And they can't stand each other. From their meeting to their ultimate battle, Harry and Harry's world will never be the same. ON HIATUS
1. Revelations

**AN: I have been fascinated by these two book series since the first time I read them. Needless to say, the urge to write a crossover has been itching to reach my fingertips for a while. I decided to put it aside and work on other stories, but I fear that the urge has found its way to victory. To write this fic, I'm putting one of my two In Progress stories on hold, and I will continue to write the other one. For now, I hope you enjoy this! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything except for my own original characters, which can be obviously noted throughout the story. Harry Potter and the Dresden Files belong to their respective owners.**

A strange thing it is, when things do not play out as it should. When a dice remains uncast, a play not acted, an unexpected party; when the course of destiny is routed, and all that was must become anew. Many times misfortune plays its part: Terrible disasters, unpredictable catastrophes, and the end of life as we know it. How many worlds have fallen because of an unplanned twist in destiny? We may never know.

However, sometimes these twists play their part to serve in the side of good.

This story, in fact, serves as an example. When a boy finds himself in a side of the world that his kind was never supposed to mingle with. When the fate of the very world rests on the shoulders of two very different people, yet they bear the same name. Their lives are scarred with the loss of loved ones. They have seen things, _done_ things, which most people would shrink away from. They are heroes, loved and hated at the same time.

Who would have thought they would cross paths?

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The wind rustled softly, bearing a swirl of orange and green as it swept up the autumn leaves that rested on the concrete path. The dull gray way was enclosed in a sea of autumnal hues: Orange, red, yellow, etc. Dozens of trees stood solitarily amongst themselves, leaves gently detaching from the gnarled branches. In the distance, the sounds of busy tourists and lake boats floated across the breeze.

On a bench beside the path, alone and bent over, sat the Man Who Lived.

Harry Potter frustratingly swept his bangs away from his creased forehead, his fingers warily avoiding the stark lightning-shaped scar that marked it. His olive-green eyes burned with pain, and his bones cracked as he leaned back against the wooden bench. Almost abruptly, as if rebuking himself for his momentary respite, he leaned forward, brushed his sweaty palms on his loose slacks, and closed his eyes.

For some reason, after all those years of quiet peace with his family, his scar was hurting again.

"Bloody hell," he snarled quietly, curling his lip. "What is happening to me?"

It had started the month before. He would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, perspiration coating his half-naked body heavily. He didn't know why he was disturbed, he would tell Ginny repeatedly, he vaguely remembered his dreams. All he could recall was a chilling laugh, a laugh that seemed to issue from the very throat of Death itself. It continued for days on ends, abusing his sleep and haunting his thoughts. Therapists recommended medication, but it only worsened the effect. It was as if his tormenter took the drugs as a chance to scream louder in Harry's ears. His wife and children tried their best to support him, but the dreams were beginning to take a toll.

Then, out of the blue, his scar began to hurt.

He didn't notice it at first. The wizard had gone so long without it that he seemed to forget the aching it caused. He would irritably scratch his forehead during work, thinking that it was only a simple rash. As days went by, however, and the pain worsened, the realization dawned on him.

"Ginny, love," he whispered that night when they were in bed, the children all tucked in. "It's back."

Ron and Hermione had visited, tugging their own children along with them to see if Uncle Harry was okay. They had not taken the news lightly, and immediate action was taken. The best healers in the country came, dousing him with herbs and dream-soothers. Even the old Madame Pomfrey tried her best to lessen the former Hogwarts student's pain. Nothing seemed to exterminate it, however. In the end, Harry himself had said that he needed a little recluse.

He and his family, including Ron and Hermione's, paid a visit to Lake Windermere, a hot tourist location that Ginny had wanted to see in ages. The trip was long, but they made it. Harry had found this spot during their second day at the lake, and the path was a haven from the madness that had occupied his life.

"Oh, Dumbledore," the man, who as a boy saved the world from utter domination, sighed deeply. "Where's your guidance when I need it?"

He wrapped his arms around his body, cold despite his black wool sweater. His teeth chattered as another gust of wind blasted against him. He stamped his boots on the ground, but the cold would not leave.

Harry stood, cursing under his breath. He walked down the path, towards the lake where his friends and family played in the shallows. The scar burned, but the prospect of joining with the people he loved dampened some of the pain.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" a cold, familiar voice asked.

Harry, a hand covering his forehead, turned towards the source of the voice.

Draco Lucius Malfoy had not changed very much since the last time the two rivals met. His face had acquired a bit more wrinkles, his hair slightly graying at the temples. His voice was quite deeper, intoned with a slight rasp. The man had matured since his younger days, but the air of superiority still permeated his aura, and the smirk remained ever constant.

"Morning, Malfoy," Harry responded after a few moments, clearing his throat. "I wasn't expecting your company."

Draco detached himself from the tree trunk he had been leaning against. He walked a couple of paces until he stood in front of Harry. The man looked good, Harry had to admit. He wore a black waistcoat over a turquoise dress shirt. Black slacks covered his thin legs, ending with a pair of dark shoes. The man had a fancy coat draped elegantly over one shoulder like a model. Harry fought back a smirk that threatened to show on his face. Same old Malfoy.

"Neither did I. My dear wife and I had to attend a meeting with the Cumbria County Council this week. When I heard of your arrival, I just _had_ to visit."

"I'm sure…" Potter said, lifting an eyebrow suspiciously. Malfoy had never been one for social niceties, and he had a hard time wondering if he was being sarcastic or not. He cleared his throat once more. "Speaking of your wife, how is the lovely Astoria doing?"

"Well, I suppose," Malfoy answered with a haughty sniff. "She was never a country lass to begin with, and she's practically itching to leave the Lake District."

They were silent for a few moments, unaccustomed to such small talk. In the past, conversations with each other usually ended with words being said, fists thrown, spells cast, etc. Needless to say, it hadn't been good. Harry awkwardly tried to think up of some more polite questions, but botched it.

"Oh for God's sake, Malfoy, quit with the stalling. Tell me what you came here to tell me. This is strange for the both of us." he exclaimed, his outburst fueled by the pain in his forehead.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow, noting the hand on Harry's brow. He cleared his throat.

"I was wondering when you would say that. Anyways, _Potter_, I was given a call by the Ministry early this morning. At the crack of dawn, if you can believe it. The Ministry never was one for politeness. They ordered me to pick up an owl bearing a letter addressed to you. I was their only employee close enough to you, I mean by distance, and trusted enough to give it to you. They stated that it was a matter of the utmost importance. Here," he withdrew a letter from the pocket of his trousers. "Take it, it's yours."

Harry cautiously crossed the divide between him and Malfoy, snatching the letter from the other's outstretched hand. He tucked it into his pocket and stepped back.

"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry said, softening. "It means a lot that you would actually take the time to do that for me."

Malfoy's face contorted a mixture of distaste and embarrassment on his fine features. He turned his face away.

"Don't expect it any longer. Like I said, the order came from the lords running the M.o.M... It isn't like I had a choice."

Harry nodded, smiling.

Draco Malfoy curled his lip, but otherwise kept his disgust to himself. He turned around and began to walk away down the empty path.

"Farewell, Potter. Watch that scar of yours." he called from the distance.

The man rounded a bend, and was gone. Harry, despite the constant pain, couldn't suppress a chuckle. Malfoy sure did a little growing up.

Harry Potter resumed his journey to his family, his joy renewed.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Harry finished the last flight of stone steps, his boots meeting brown sand as it hit the shore. He squinted, lifting a hand across his forehead to shield it from the glaring sun. He saw his loved ones playing among the tide, bringing a smile to his face.

Ginny, clad in a yellow sundress, was sitting on the edge of a harbored canoe, watching the children play. She looked up expectantly, seeming to sense the presence of her husband even before she laid eyes on him. Ginny smiled as he came to meet them, her green eyes alight.

"Hello, love," she whispered, walking into his outstretched arms. "Where have you been?"

"With myself," he answered, nuzzling his face in her scarlet hair. "I needed a little time off."

Harry heard several splashes of water as his children came rushing up to meet him. He groaned, chuckling as Lily tackled his waist. Albus gripped his arm tightly, while James stood to the side. They were in their swim gear, fingers pruned from the long hours in the water. Harry picked up his daughter, giving her a hearty kiss on her cheeks. He ruffled his sons' hair, not wanting to leave them out of his show of affection.

"How are you, my wonderful children?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

"Uncle Ron found a toad in the shallows, dad!" Albus exclaimed, pointing fervently at Harry's best friend and brother-in-law. "Look, he still has it!"

Ron threw a brown lump in the air and caught it once more. The thing wriggled violently in his curled palm. The ginger-haired man wiggled his eyebrows playfully. Harry couldn't suppress a bout of laughter.

He joined them by the row of canoes, sitting down beside his wife. They watched the kids play. Hugo and Albus splashed water on Rose and the girls, giggling as their victims squealed and ran away. James came up out of the water in the girls' path, water ferns covering his head, resembling a hag.

The girls screamed.

"Hugo!" Hermione called, her brown hair falling freely down her shoulders. She was dressed in a red shirt and jeans shorts. "Stop scaring your sister!"

"Alright, mother!" he called from the distance, his red hair hanging wet. He promptly dived into the water, followed closely by Albus.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned slightly and saw Ron standing close behind him. His friend tilted his head, indicating a spot near the surrounding forest. Harry nodded and followed Ron to the shade of the bent willow far from the shallows. When they were there, Ron felt free to speak.

"How's your scar, mate?" he inquired worriedly. "I can tell it was bothering you down there."

"I don't know," Harry sighed, looking down at the ground. "It comes and goes, but when it comes it hurts. I don't think this trip is helping much."

Ron nodded sadly, placing a caring hand on his best friend's shoulder. They were quiet for a moment, lost in their respective thoughts. Harry perked up, remembering something.

"Guess who I met a few minutes ago," said Harry, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Who?"

"Malfoy," Harry replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "Looking smug as ever."

Ron made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Ugh," he snorted. "I had no idea he was here. Didn't think he and his dear wife was the country type."

"Yeah, well, he came," Harry said, shrugging. He reached into his pocket and took out the letter. "He gave me this. Told me it was from the Ministry."

"Aren't you on leave?" Ron asked, eyebrows up. He inspected the letter. "Why would they send you a business letter?"

"No one said it was a business letter, Ron," Harry sighed, taking the letter back from his friend.

"True, but the M.o.M rarely ever sends leisure letters. Go, open it," Ron whispered, leaning forward expectantly, his long red hair over his forehead.

Harry, comfortable enough with Ron to open a private letter, undid the red, wax Ministry seal and withdrew a folded parchment from the interior. He unfolded it, his and Ron's eyes perusing its neatly written contents.

_**To Auror Harry James Potter,**_

_** I regret to inform you that recent events have forced us to once more ask for your assistance, Mr. Potter. We are aware of your present condition, and we hope for your swift recovery from your unexpected "illness". However, as stated before, recent events have forced our hand at this particular point. You are currently passing vacation leave at Lake Windermere, a tourist location in the Lake District National Park, Cumbria. At this very moment, we politely ask for you to meet one of our representatives at the entrance of the park for a more detailed briefing. Numerous reports indicate a sudden spike in Dark Magic nearby your location. As our most able Auror, and the most closest to the rally point, your arrival would be much appreciated. This letter will succumb to a burning charm as you complete your reading.**_

_**Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic**_

Harry felt a hot sensation itch at his fingertips. His eyes widened as he finished the letter. He quickly threw the paper to the ground, watching as fire erupted from the edges and began to eat its way to the core. Soon, there was nothing left but ash and smoke.

"That's wicked," Ron said appreciatively.

Harry sighed. "If it's from Shacklebolt, I don't think I have much of a choice. Plus, if they took the time to send Malfoy of all people to give me the letter then I guess I better go."

"There's the Dark Magic bit, too," Ron added.

"Yeah, that too."

They sighed simultaneously. The wind picked up, ruffling their sweater sleeves and pants. Harry watched as Hermione and Ginny hurriedly rushed the children out of the water, draping towels over their thin bodies.

"Don't worry, I'll tell them," Ron grunted. "Ministry business and all that."

"Thanks, mate," he said, standing to the side. "I owe you one."

He reached into his pocket, fingering his wand for comfort. It was 11 inches, made of holly, with a phoenix feather at its core. It was one of the most famous wands in the wizarding world, and it was Harry's. He smiled at his friend, who returned it.

Harry closed his eyes, picturing the lobby in his head, and Apparated.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

It wasn't hard finding the M.o.M official. He stood off to the side, donning a brown trench coat and hat. He was unusually tall, with gray hair and a stern expression on his hard face. He was under an oak tree, avoiding the throng of Muggles that crowded around the entrance to the lake. Harry, who had Apparated in a men's bathroom stall not long before, approached the man, ignoring his scar's pain as to give the man a smile of greeting.

"Good day to you, sir," he greeted, standing next to him. "I trust you're here for me?"

The man nodded slowly, gray eyes fixing him with a long stare.

Harry cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. Hundreds of people were hanging around the grassy lawn, chatting but seemingly unaware of the two wizards in their midst. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.

"Someplace else, then?"

The man nodded once more.

Harry walked away, followed closely by the tall man. He led him to a group of trees, ringed around each other in a tight circle. There were a few couples around, but it was secure enough. Harry slyly cast a sound charm around the two. There, no one could easily hear them now.

"Now," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "What is it that the Ministry interrupted my family time about?"

The man straightened, clearing his throat. He rummaged around in his deep pockets, finally withdrawing a stack of stapled sheets and handing it to Harry. Harry took it, inspecting the papers.

He was stunned at first. The first sheet was a picture of a corpse, a young woman lying on what seemed to be a wooden floor. She was dressed in a loose camisole, torn and dirty. Dried blood stained the body and the floor messily, pooling around her throat. He flipped through the papers, finding similar situations of grim death. A woman, a man, a teenage girl, another man. He stopped at the photograph of a mere child and handed the papers angrily to the representative.

"What is this?" he asked darkly, his mood considerably lower. "A joke?"

"A case, actually," the man finally said. He had a deep baritone voice, a voice that projected waves of authority. The man was used to giving orders. He was also from South Shields, by the sound of it. "There has been a string of murders occurring in the Lake District, something that has caught the eye of the Ministry."

"As bad as this seems, when did Muggle homicides matter to the Minister, much less the Ministry itself." Harry inquired, taking a firm stance.

The man's lips twitched, but otherwise he went on.

"I assumed that you would've guessed that since the Ministry is investigating, the murders aren't completely of Muggle conception."

Harry flushed, berating himself. _That's what you get for a few weeks off the job_, he thought drily.

"Of course, my apologies. Go on," he said, his face still red.

The man obviously couldn't suppress a small grin from appearing on his wrinkled face, but he went on.

"Thank you. Anyways, the boys at the morgue discovered that their souls were completely sucked dry from their bodies."

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"Dementors, then?" he stated.

"That was the first guess. However, dementors, even as voracious as they are, do not need to physically harm their victims to steal their souls. These Muggles seemed to have been cut first, and then their souls were extracted."

"Dark Wizard, perhaps?" Harry interjected. He had seen similar work in the past, almost always by the hands of a maniac who had delved too deep in the Dark Arts. "It wouldn't be the first."

"True, but usually a wizard, or witch, would implement the Killing Curse on their victims and not use objects such as knives. The murderer seems to have slain the victims and then magically extract the souls from the dying body at the last minute."

Harry thought about that for a moment, his mental work dampening the effect of his scar slightly. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"That would take a high degree of control," he mused. "No ordinary Dark Wizard has the skill to weave such a potent spell like that," he said. Harry paused, lifting a finger. "Or, maybe more than one persons are taking part in this spree."

"That is entirely possible," the man responded. "This is why we have gathered a team to stop the killer, or killers, at large."

Harry stopped his thoughts, surprised.

"A team?" he exclaimed, trying not to raise his voice too loud. "Of who, may I ask?"

"The best Aurors we could conjure at the moment. This is the rallying point, as the Minister decreed."

"Who are these Aurors?" Harry asked. His suspicion grew and grew, and so did his anger. It was just like the Ministry to call on him for a life-or-death mission.

"Yours truly, for starters," the tall man grunted, parting his coat to reveal a wand hanging at his waist. "Then there's you, and three more will accompany us. Of course, you are free to ask your friend Ron to assist us. He is an exceptional Auror, and his help would be much-"

"No thanks," Harry practically spat. There was no need to drag his best friend into this. "I'd rather not."

The man nodded, ignoring Harry's spite. He buttoned up his jacket, signaling an end to the conversation.

"Meet us here at nightfall. We'll need to act quickly if we are to find and stop the killer/killers. We've predicted the next most-likely hit, so stealth is of the essence. If you still have your Invisibility Cloak, it would come in handy."

The man turned, walking away.

"Remember, _here nightfall_. Don't be late, Potter."

"I didn't catch your name!" Harry asked loudly.

The man was silent for a few moments as he continued on his way. Just when Harry had thought he was about to leave his question hanging, he answered.

"Daniel," he responded, not turning back. "Daniel Scrimgeour."

With that, he was gone.

Harry stood there, shocked. He had no idea that the former Minister for Magic had a son, much less a wife. He could see the family resemblance, however. The same shrewd look, keen eyes, the rugged determination in his stance and tone. He must've gotten the hairless face, gray eyes, and height from his mother. Harry almost laughed in disbelief.

He walked back into the building, avoiding the crowd of tourists. He entered the men's bathroom stall, closed his eyes, and Apparated.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Are you sure you want to go?" Ginny asked worriedly, tucking a stray red bang behind her ear. "You scar still hurts, I can tell."

"Yeah, it does," Harry sighed. They were seated on their bed in their hotel room. The children were off visiting Ron and Hermoine. He was glad that they weren't around to hear the news. "As much as I want to spend time with you and the little ones, people are dying. As an Auror, I have an obligation to act."

Ginny's resolve broke, and she nodded wearily and sadly. "I guess you're right. When are you leaving again?"

"Sundown, nightfall, somewhere around that time. Rufus Scrimgeour's son is one of the Aurors helping me."

Ginny made a surprised noise in her throat.

"The old fart had a child?" she said incredulously.

Harry grinned at his wife's words.

"Apparently."

They were silent for a moment. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed window curtains, filled with hundreds of floating dust motes. Harry looked out the view window. The sun was beginning to set, almost hidden behind the treetops to the west. Harry stood, gathering his wand and watch from the top of the bedside table. He was notorious for his lateness, and for this he didn't want to show up looking stupid in front of four accomplished Aurors, regardless of his anger.

"I'll see you, love," he whispered, kissing Ginny on her pale cheeks.

"Come back safe," she whispered back, tearing up.

Harry embraced her lovingly. When he was finished, he stood in front of the window. The Auror straightened, closed his eyes, and Apparated for the third time in the day.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Daniel was waiting for Harry at the same location he had a few hours earlier. It was twilight now, and the sky had already begun to darken considerably. Fewer people were out this time; almost all of them retreating to the shelter of their homes. A few lampposts flickered brightly along the path, but them and the waning moon were the only source of light. A gentle breeze still floated through the air, stubborn in its persistence. The Auror was still in his large trench coat.

He wasn't alone this time. Harry saw three other men standing alongside Scrimgeour. He approached them, waving to Daniel and giving his fellow Aurors a closer look.

The first man was tall, almost as tall as Daniel. He had jet-black hair, almost indistinguishable in the dark backdrop of the dusk. He had a white short-sleeved business shirt, complete with a matching black tie. Black slacks (it seemed that it was the style nowadays) covered his long legs. He was young, by the looks of it, no more than twenty-five. His features were handsome save for a jagged scar running down his right cheek. The young man's arms were crossed tightly around his chest, revealing well-corded forearms. He smiled amiably as Harry came up to them. __

__The other man was short and squat, the top of his head barely reaching Harry's collarbone. No hair adorned his crown, and a severe, cross expression was stamped upon his face. Harry had the impression that this was his normal countenance. He wore a beige polo, followed with blue jeans. Despite his height, however, Harry could tell he was really muscular. His stout figure probably emphasized his impressive bulk.

The last man was of average height; thin but lean. He was blonde, with two astonishingly blue eyes gracing his fair features. He had on a gray sweatshirt that read: **UCLA Bruins**. With that and his black shorts, he looked like any other tourist visiting the area. He gave a crooked grin and winked at Harry.

It looked like they had all been pulled at very short notice.

"Good," Daniel stated, adjusting his coat around his towering frame. "Looks like we're all here. Let's be quick with the introductions. Harry, this is Samuel Cunningham," he pointed to the scarred, black-haired man who looked straight out of grad school. Samuel waved a hand casually.

"The short fellow's Rutger Verhouven, one of our associates from the Netherlands. He was vacationing here just like you were."

The Dutchman appraised Harry with a cold glance. He grunted out a greeting then turned away. Apparently, he wasn't too happy with being pulled out from vacation as well.

"The last guy is Damon Parker, an American wizard. The Minister included him at the last minute for reasons still untold. He said he would be a valuable asset."

"So I've heard," the blonde American cut in playfully. He stuck out his hand to Harry, who reluctantly shook it. "This is my first time in Britain, but I've heard about you. You're some sort of superstar here I reckon."

"Something like that," Harry said carefully. As far as he knew, the Wizarding War with Voldemort hadn't reached the ears of the United States.

Damon's eyes roamed across Harry's face, finally stopping at the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry's hand came up to it self-consciously.

"Alright," Daniel said, clearing his throat. "I believe that is sufficient time for introductions. Let's get a move on, shall we?"

Harry disentangled his hand from the American's, joining in step with the lead Auror. Soon, all five of them found themselves following the tall man from South Shields.

"Would you mind telling us where we're going?" Harry asked haltingly, struggling to catch up with the long-legged Auror.

"Lake Windermere has 18 islands, with only one privately owned. They were the first spots investigated by our agents, since they were often secluded from the public at times, especially during the night. Recent activity shows us that a few unidentified persons go to and fro one particular island, Lady Holme. It was once occupied by a chapel in the past. We believe that the victims are taken there, killed, and dumped at strategic points."

"So what, we barge in there and ask questions?" Harry snorted, breathing hard as they walked up and over a steep incline.

"No, Potter, we do not _barge in there and ask questions_. We do some reconnaissance, watch what happens, and strike when the time is right."

Harry grew silent at that. He was frustrated. He didn't like the prospect of dropping into a potential cooking pot without the proper intelligence. As an Auror, he liked to be prepared. He fumed silently, but otherwise didn't say a word.

They stopped at the lake bank. In the distance, a big lump of island could be seen, shrouded with numerous trees and foliage that blocked further view of the interior.

"Is that Lady Holme?" Harry asked dully.

"She sure is," Daniel replied. He turned to the young Samuel. "Mr. Cunningham, if you would."

"Very well," he answered. He had a very light, young voice, something that didn't discourage Harry's feelings about Samuel going on the excursion.

Samuel breathed deeply, wringing his wrists nervously. He looked at Daniel for affirmation. The tall man nodded.

Samuel vanished from sight. They waited there for a few seconds. Sending one or two Aurors to scout out a location before the whole party went forth was a common tactic in the Ministry.

A white pinprick of light blinked from the shore of the nearby island, slightly unnoticeable against the darkening sky. It was time to go. One by one they Apparated.

Harry felt his feet leave hard pavement and touch soft sand. He looked around. He was on the shores of Lady Holme, along with the other Aurors. The dense foliage ahead of them didn't do anything to lighten their spirits.

"Well," Damon whispered. "There's nothing like a dark forest to cheer us up, right?"

They ignored him.

They moved into the interior of the island, senses on high alert. Rutgers stumbled on something in the dark, causing him to mutter darkly in Dutch.

The forest closed in around them oppressively. There was a small path that allowed some access, but the low trees and wide bushes scraped against the Aurors' bodies. It was horribly silent, not even the familiar rhythm of a cricket disturbed the quiet. Everything was suspiciously still.

Daniel, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped.

He dropped down to a crouch, gesturing for the others to get down also. Harry complied, kneeling down next to Rutgers and Daniel. He looked at the tall man questioningly. Daniel pointed through the underbrush ahead of them.

Harry leaned forward, peering through the dense foliage.

What he saw chilled him to the bone.

A circle of torches were held aloft by darkly-robed figures in a clearing. The orange light cast disturbing shadows across the ground, making things frighteningly surreal. The figures were chanting in a harsh demonic tongue, something that didn't seem right for human mouths. In the center of the ring was a weeping girl, held tight by ropes at her hands and feet. She was strapped to a stone table, her body straining against the binding.

A man stood in front of the table. He was short, slightly shorter than Harry and a little taller than Rutgers. He had a shade of stubble on his pale face, stretching from either side to around his thin lips. Black, almost graying, hair hung carelessly down his forehead. His face was plain-looking, like any middle-aged man in the world. He had a black-and-white suit on, like he was attending a party. Strangely, a loop of rope that resembled a hangman's noose hung around his neck like a tie.

Even as Harry looked at him, everything about the man seemed wrong. His aura reeked of evil and death, something he had not sensed since the days with Voldemort. He too was chanting in that same guttural language.

"What the hell…?" Damon whispered nervously. He was hushed by Samuel, who was pale with fright. Come to think of it, _everyone's_ face was pale with fright. Some serious dark magic was going on here.

The man in the middle reached into his suit pocket and took out a curved knife.

Harry rose to rescue the struggling girl, but Daniel pulled him down roughly. The son of the dead Minister had his eyes locked onto the scene.

The man opened his eyes, and out of nowhere, a pair of green, feline ones opened up above his regular ones.

Damon fell back, cursing quietly in disbelief.

"With this act of sacrifice," the man in the center called out, his voice amplified and mingled with the voice of a woman's. Sickeningly, a pleasured smile appeared on the man's face. "One more death shall be taken for the Dark Prince's sake!"

He lifted the knife high, and the teenage girl gasped into her gag, tears pouring from her shut eyelids.

Harry rose from the bushes, wand outstretched.

"_STUPEFY!" _he roared.

A lance of red energy erupted from the tip of his wand, racing across the clearing and hitting the crazed man in the sternum. He let out a pained grunt, lifted off the ground and sent flying into the opposite bushes.

It was silent for a few moments.

Then all hell broke loose.

The Aurors leapt out of the undergrowth, brandishing their wands threateningly at the circle of robed figures. At first, they caught them by surprise. Harry caught another one in the chest, the stun spell dropping the robed one easily. Daniel stepped forward, an ugly expression on his face.

"_Aguamenti!" _cried the tall Auror. A jet of high-powered water streamed from the tip of his wand, hitting another figure squarely in the chest. The high-velocity water tore through the robe, hurling the victim into the air.

The Aurors seemed to have the upper hand. Rutgers and Samuel used a double-_Confringo_ on a group of the robed men and women, creating a ghastly explosion. Damon was nowhere to be seen.

Then, the first one shifted.

The man tore off his robe, revealing a muscular body literally covered in intricate tattoos. The man smiled darkly at the Aurors. He roared, and his body transformed. His limbs grew stockier, more burlier. Yellow fur erupted from his arms and legs, ending in giant, cat-like claws. His face contorted into a demonic mask, resembling a Chinese lion. A tail snaked its way into the open, tipped with a scorpion-like blade.

The new beast stood on its hind legs, easily dwarfing Daniel by width and height. It chuckled evilly, saliva dripping from its open maw. It leaned forward, gave a roar of challenge, and charged.

Rutgers cursed in Dutch, releasing an orb of energy from his wand towards the frighteningly fast monster. It hit its right shoulder, creating an odd popping noise. Flames erupted from where the orb hit, causing the creature to growl in pain. It didn't halt his progress, however.

"Move!" Daniel warned, pushing Harry out of the way.

The beast landed on the spot where they were just mere seconds before. It stamped its paws on the soil maddeningly, foaming at the mouth. It prepared to charge once more, brushing its foot on the ground like a bull.

Rutgers appeared in front of the fallen Harry and Daniel, tiny compared to the massive creature in front of him. He muttered something in Dutch and waved his wand at the crazed monster.

A jet of blue flame sailed towards the burning beast in an arc, slicing at it from shoulder blade to hip. The beast yelped in pain, falling to the ground with a thud. It struggled to douse the fire with its huge paws, but whatever flame Rutgers had conjured didn't seem to extinguish. It intensified, burning the beast in a fiery blaze. It stopped, unmoving save for a few twitches.

Harry gaped.

"He's one of our foremost fire-spell experts," Daniel explained, rising to his feet and helping Harry to his. "The best in his country, and close to the best in ours."

Harry nodded, mesmerized.

A loud boom distracted him from his reverie.

Samuel was locked in battle with two wolf-like monsters with black bat wings. His white dress shirt was stained with soot and blood, yet he fought on. The pair of monsters closed in for the kill, but he countered them with a quick countering spell that sent them to the ground.

Harry approached one as it struggled to rise.

"_Confringo,"_ he said calmly, pointing his wand at the monstrosity.

The explosion flattened the beast where it crouched, creating a decent crater. Amazingly, it was still in one piece, but it wouldn't be fighting for a while. Daniel finished off the other one with a stun charm.

Thankfully, most of the robed group had been dealt with before they could make their transformations. The clearing was silent. Daniel approached the bound girl and set her loose with his wand. She made a choking sound, gripping the tall Auror in a desperate embrace. He hugged her back, whispering encouraging words into her ear.

Harry smiled, despite his cuts and bruises.

"Well, well, well, isn't this a lovely thing?" a chilling voice said from the bushes.

They whirled around, wands ready.

The man from the beginning, the head of the group, sat calmly on a jutting boulder, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He had a disturbed smile on his face, and the green eyes from before were gone. He jumped from his perch, walking towards the group of Aurors.

"Stay back!" Daniel ordered, one hand around the girl and the other bearing the wand. The weapon was pointed at the man with force.

Harry, although surprised at how the man could walk away unscathed from a direct Stupefy, pointed his wand also.

Rutgers and Samuel slowly circled him, cutting off all paths of escape. He noticed this, and he chuckled quietly.

"What's so funny?" Samuel snapped, obviously irritated.

"Do you honestly think that you second-rate mages can defeat me?" he asked jovially, winking at the young Auror playfully.

"Don't do it, Samuel!" Daniel warned, but it was too late.

The Auror sent a stream of liquid fire at the short man, the scorching heat felt even by Harry, who stood yards away. The fire hit, engulfing the mysterious man in a blazing inferno. He was a black form amidst the orange-red flame. Samuel stepped back, pleased with his work.

A dark shadow raced across the ground from under the huge fire. It gripped Samuel's ankle tightly, somehow tangible. The young Auror yelped, falling to the floor. He was dragged towards the fire by the long shadow. He cursed, flicking his wand and hitting the dark hand with severing spells. Rutgers aided him, but to no avail. The boy was getting nearer and nearer the flames.

Harry jumped, grabbing his comrade's waist. He wouldn't let another Auror die on his hands. Too many of his friends died when he wasn't there to help them. He held tightly, muscles straining to keep her there.

"K-Keep…holding…on!" Harry gasped, finding himself being dragged along with the black-haired young man. The shadow was astonishingly strong; it was pulling two grown men without much effort.

Samuel's actions were beginning to get desperate. His breathing was hitched and labored, his eyes wide as the conflagration grew closer and closer.

"Daniel!" Harry cried through gritted teeth. "Douse the fire!"

"B-but-"

"JUST DO IT!"

"FINE!"

The towering Auror took a stance, holding his wand with both hands. A vein popped as he chanted the incantation.

"_Aqua Erecto_!" he roared.

The water erupted from the tip of his wand, spraying forcefully on the flames. The fire was quickly doused, revealing the man. Shockingly, his clothes were barely even burnt, and he wore a smug grin on his face. He gestured with his hand, releasing the shadow from Samuel's leg and back to him. It melded back into his body with a squelch.

"Finished?" he asked lightly.

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Harry snarled, helping the pale Samuel to his feet.

"Very much so," he answered, crossing his arms. "Now that you mention it, I haven't had this much fun in this nation since the Dark Ages."

Everyone froze.

"W-Who are you?" Samuel whispered, breathing heavily.

The man smiled and gave an elegant bow.

"I am known by many names, but I prefer to go by Nicodemus Archleone," he replied. Nicodemus straightened. "How do you do?"

His shadow lunged once more, aimed straight for Harry Potter.

**AN: Good cliff hanger, eh? Anyways, please read and review, it would be very much appreciated! Ask any questions on the review board! NO FLAMES, ONLY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITIQUE! Second chapter coming soon! **


	2. Demons, Aurors, and Knights

**AN: Second Chapter! YAAAYYYY! Anyways, yeah, I did tell you it was coming soon. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the rest. The third chapter might come a little later than expected, but bear with me, I do have school and a life. I hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing save for my original characters (which you can notice right away).**

What was it about the shadows that invoked such a primal fear in mankind? Was it the color black itself? Did the thought of blindness, the overwhelming fear of the unknown, play a part in this instinctive reproach? Or was it the obvious scarcity of light? Did the dark act as a vacuum, stealing all hope and joy from the human mind?

All these questions raced through Harry's mind as the black hand raced towards him, elongated and quick. Time seemed to slow down. The tangible shadow hung above him, ready to engulf the Man Who Lived, to choke the life from his throat. His scar hadn't hurt so much as it had in that moment. Time returned to normal, and the hand was milliseconds away from touching his skin.

Harry leapt to the side, pushing Samuel to the opposite end. The shadow struck empty air and paused, turning this way and that like a sentient being. For all Harry knew, it probably was.

"_Diffindo!_" the Auror cried, wand outstretched. The cutting spell went vertically across the dark shadow, passing through with no apparent effect. Harry cursed, stumbling backwards as fast as he could.

"Run, little spider," Nicodemus drawled in amusement, unblinking eyes watching Harry's sporadic movements unsettlingly. "That's all you can do!"

Harry flipped to his right; the shadow smashed the spot where he had been mere seconds before, creating a sizeable crater. Harry's eyes widened. God, if that had hit him…

A shadow loomed over him. Harry looked up, noting with grim clarity that the shadow had taken advantage of Harry's distraction to strike once more. He closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable feel of crushing weight and sudden darkness. He didn't even get to say goodbye to his children.

"_Incendio Maximus!_" Rutger snarled from the side.

Archleone erupted into flames, a scene all too familiar. The shadow visibly detracted a few inches. That was all the time Harry needed. The man scrambled away, eyes locked onto the frozen shadow hand. Suddenly, it disappeared back into the conflagration that consumed its master. The fire burned longer, allowing the Aurors a few moments to recuperate. Harry limped back to Daniel and the girl, supported by Rutger and Samuel.

"We have to get out of here," he hissed, wincing as his heel burned with irritable pain. "There's no telling when he'll decide to attack again."

"You're right," Daniel ceded, his face sagging with weariness. "The plan's been botched. Samuel, head back to the shore. Try to find the American on your way. He's probably-"

There was a loud boom. They turned back, their hope extinguished quite abruptly. Nicodemus stood in the center of the clearing, virtually unharmed. The second fire move hadn't seemed to faze him one bit. He grunted, brushing some soot off his shoulder.

"That's awfully terrible of you," he complained. Nicodemus grinned, showing all of his yellow teeth. "This suit is new!"

Rutger cursed, approaching the monster of a man with brave determination. He positioned his wand towards Nicodemus, who stared curiously at the end of it.

"Die, devil!" the Dutchman growled in broken English.

This time, he wasn't holding back. Fire, white and scorching, streamed towards the still Nicodemus. The heat was near unbearable; Harry and the other Aurors backed away quickly. It was as if a tendril of the sun itself erupted from the Dutchman's wand. It shot through the air, swirling and coalescing until it took the form of a white dragon, its terrible maw open and hot.

Nicodemus' eyes widened. A soft curse escaped his cracked lips, and the evil man threw himself to the side. The dragon flew into the ground.

Fire burst into the sky, spinning furiously like a tornado from the very depths of hell itself. The twister of white-hot flame spun and spun, reaching into the sky with a deep crackling noise. Nicodemus screamed, his small frame pulled into the heart of the powerful spell. There was a resounding boom, and the Aurors were sent backwards save for the Dutchman. The trees and bushes bent from the pressure, a hot wind coursing through Lady Holme and beyond.

When the tornado died down, all was silent.

Rutger's breathing was heavy, his chest heaving on his stout stature. His wand quivered in his grasp; the spell was too strong a casting to leave a wizard unwearied. He crouched down to the ground, a hand over his heart.

Harry stood, cautiously approaching the Dutchman. He placed a comforting hand on the wizard's soot-stained shoulder. He touched it gently in return.

"That was amazing," Harry whispered in awe. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Tierra del Fuego," the foreign man grunted back. He rose from his crouch, limping on one bad leg. "A fire-mage taught to me. I learn fast."

Although heavily accented, Harry understood his words well enough. The two joined Daniel and the nervous girl by the forest entrance. Daniel smiled encouragingly.

"I didn't think he'd be finally killed," he exclaimed, running a hand through his thin hair.

"He wasn't."

In the center of the clearing, face burnt and nigh unrecognizable, stood Nicodemus Archleone.

Harry heard Daniel let loose a string of colorful language, and Harry had to stifle on himself. The former captive whimpered in fright.

Nicodemus stood there, breathing heavily. The area around him was scorched and ruined, the land destroyed by the third conflagration. His suit was almost torn away, and the skin underneath black with burns and ash. His eyes shone chillingly amidst his scarred features.

"You almost had me there, wizard," he rasped. "I applaud you for that."

He straightened, a malevolent grin on his ruined face.

"However, I am done with playing games."

He vanished. Harry spun around, searching every visible shadow in the clearing. Daniel wrapped his long arms around the girl, wand up and eyes searching. Rutger crouched low, muttering incantations in Dutch.

Rutger stopped.

Harry turned around, a question on his lips.

The Dutch wizard was hanging in the air, his toes nearly grazing the forest floor. He was held aloft by an expressionless Nicodemus, whose arm was sticking out of the wizard's chest. Blood spurted from the horrific wound, and Rutger choked up a mouthful of the crimson substance. Nicodemus sniffed in distaste and threw the Auror to the ground. The Dutchman fell with a thud, twitching spasmodically as he lost control.

Harry let loose a pained scream of fury. His green eyes widened, and his hair flipped back as he lifted his wand in preparation.

"_Bombarda Maxima!"_

An invisible wave of kinetic energy soared towards the murderer faster than the eye could see. It connected with Archleone with a crunch, sending him backwards. He hit a boulder and slumped to the ground.

"Run, Daniel!" Harry told the frozen Auror. "Take the girl and run!"

"What about you?" the tall man asked quietly, watching as Nicodemus rose to his feet. "I can't leave a man behind."

"I'll try to hold him off before he kills all of us," Harry hissed, gesturing for him to leave at once. "GO!"

Daniel obeyed, carrying the girl and sprinting into the underbrush. Soon, all that was left in the obliterated glen was Harry, the dead bodies of the robed figures and Rutger, and Nicodemus.

Harry watched in disbelief as the innumerable wounds scarring the man's features slowly receded into nothingness. Bones cracked into place and blood returned inside his veins with supernatural efficiency. Soon, the killer was back as he was before, smooth-skinned and smiling.

"Ahhhh," he sighed in relief. Archleone rolled his head, cracking his bones as he did so. "That was fun. What was your name again, wizard?"

"I don't think its any of your business, you monster," the famous Auror snarled. He raised his wand. "_Sectumsempra_!"

Horrific lashes appeared on Nicodemus' waist. Red blood spurted out from the wounds, yet the man only let loose a cackle of delight. He stepped back from the force, staring at Harry.

"That _hurt_! It seems you have potential, boy. Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve?"

Harry flicked his wand.

Nicodemus screamed, falling to his knees and clutching his eyes wildly. He knelt there for a few seconds, cursing and growling. He looked up, eyes red and scabby.

"What, wizard, was that?" he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Conjunctivitus Curse," Harry informed matter-of-factly. "Any accomplished wizard knows that. _Bombarda_!"

The murderer was thrown backwards once more. He grunted as he hit the torn soil. Harry didn't give him a chance to get up.

"_Confringo! Bombarda! Expulso!_" he exclaimed, anger fueling his words.

Archleone was sent into the air, spinning like a marionette from the three powerful blasting spells. He landed with a thud and a groan. Harry dropped his wand, satisfied.

"Don't get up, murderer," he warned. "I have more up my sleeve than what you bargained for."

Nicodemus began to laugh. They were chilling cackles, so disturbing that it sent a shiver of fright running down Harry's spine. Nicodemus finished, his face red. He stood, brushing down his burnt suit.

"My, this was more entertaining than I thought it would be! Tessa and Deirdre would've absolutely loved to be here!" he chortled, wiping his mouth. "I didn't expect the Ministry's minions to have been so ferocious. If the White Council had recruited a few of you…"

"I'm sorry," Harry interrupted rudely. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you wouldn't, boy," Nicodemus snorted. He smirked. "Your worlds have been divided for centuries."

"Like I said, I have no idea what you're talking about. Why don't you just shut your mouth and give up-"

Nicodemus was in front of him in a flash. A hand gripped Harry's throat with a steely vice. Harry sputtered pitifully, feeling himself lifted off the ground. He hadn't expected such strength to come from the small man. Said man grinned, much like a crocodile, and brought his terrible face close to the Auror's.

"It's been fun, _wizard_," Nicodemus hissed. Spittle flew on Harry's purple face. "However, I do not have time for games. I can hear the authorities racing here at this very moment. Before you succumb from asphyxiation, at least tell me your name. It is a custom I tend to uphold."

"H-Harry," the dying man literally spat, his vision clouding. "Harry Potter."

Nicodemus blinked.

Harry was released instantly. He hit the ground, clutching his neck wildly and gasping for air. It felt like an iron collar had been attached securely to his throat. His regained his senses, and he looked up at Nicodemus through bleary eyes.

The man had a wide grin on his face. Suddenly, his second pair of eyes popped open on his forehead, staring down at Harry with dark amusement.

"_Harry, eh_?" Nicodemus drawled, with that same amalgam of voices. "_Interesting, very interesting._"

"W-Why don't you g-go ahead and kill me right n-now?" Harry wheezed, spreading his arms in supplication. "Do it, do it now."

Nicodemus tilted his head. He giggled madly.

"If you say so," he intoned. "I estimate that I have a little under three minutes to remain here, Potter. But know this…This will be the most painful three minutes of your life."

Nicodemus lifted his curled fist.

"He's over there!" a familiar American voice cried out.

Both men whirled around.

Damon was standing to the side, a nervous but determined expression on his noble face. His sweatshirt was stained dark with sweat, and perspiration matted his blonde hair to his forehead. His trembling finger was pointed at Nicodemus and the prone Harry.

A man lumbered out of the woods. He was huge, his muscular bulk easily larger than all three of the people in the clearing. He had short brown hair, cut military-style. The man bore obvious smile wrinkles around his eyes, but he wasn't smiling now. His gaze settled on Nicodemus, and he shook his head.

"I wouldn't have expected your foul taint in this beautiful place, hell-spawn, but here I find you," he said in a deep voice. "I pray to God that I can end you here."

"I do not fear you, Knight of the Cross," Nicodemus snarled, stepping away from the stunned Harry. "Nor did I ever. Shiro was the better of the three, and still I slew him."

"He was a willing victim," the massive man grumbled. "I am not."

The man reached into a scabbard strapped to his broad back and produced a giant shining sword. It was double-hilted, and something that looked like a rusty nail was embedded into its circular pommel. He went into a fighter's stance.

"Prepare yourself, Denarian," he stated.

A blade appeared in the madman's hand, stained with dried blood. Nicodemus gave a bloodthirsty smile.

"As you wish, fool!"

They lunged, their blades meeting in a flurry of cold steel and bright sparks. Nicodemus slashed, but his opponent blocked it in its course. He grunted and pushed back, causing Nicodemus to falter.

The man slashed horizontally.

The Denarian ducked, avoiding the heavy strike. He scurried back like a beetle, crouching and snarling at the knight. The man rolled his shoulders and took a stance once more.

There was a heavy silence as the two enemies sized each other up.

"I'm afraid that I can't remain here any longer, Michael Carpenter," Nicodemus sighed unexpectedly. "I have places to go. Farewell…"

Nicodemus backed away quickly, watching as Michael raced to catch him.

"Oh, and Harry," he said, his body fading into the shadows. He winked cheerily. "Watch that scar of yours."

Michael struck, but by then Nicodemus Archleone was already gone.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Harry gently closed the door behind him, taking one last look at the peaceful corpse of Rutger Verhouven. He sighed and turned away.

The hospital hallway smelled of sharp antiseptic and death. White walls bordered the narrow passageway, adorned with billboards of child drawings and notices. There was a row of seats set up against the adjacent wall, and all were occupied.

Daniel Scrimgeour smiled wearily at Harry. He had paid his respects to the Dutch wizard before Potter had, and he was greatly depressed. It wasn't like him to lose a team member on the job. He had given his trench coat to the former prisoner, who was recovering in a nearby hospital room. He wore a dirty dress shirt underneath.

Samuel was sitting there too, his eyes glimmering under the overhead lights. He looked at Harry then looked back down again. He bent over, hands cradling his head. Harry sighed and ruffled the boy's hair. He blamed himself. Every Auror on the mission blamed themselves.

Damon was nowhere to be seen.

Surprisingly, Michael Carpenter sat next to the Cunningham boy, arms crossed. The man barely fit in the small wooden chair. His white construction shirt was dirty also, and his jeans were no less ruined. He bore a sad expression on his weathered face as he looked up at Harry.

"Hello," he said kindly in an American accent. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harry sighed, sticking his hands in his pocket. "Tired, though. This has been probably my worst night in a few decades."

Michael chuckled gently, and he lightly socked the Auror's forearm.

"Tell me about it. If you believe it, this is probably a normal night in my line of work."

Harry lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. Suddenly, all the questions that had accumulated in his mind since the fight joined into one.

"Who are you?"

Michael was silent. He looked to the side, seeing Daniel and Samuel looking at him expectantly. The big man drew in a sharp intake of breath. He furrowed his brows, searching for the right words.

"I…" he began hesitantly. "I am a Knight of the Cross. I am a warrior from God, bearing a nail that hung Christ on his cross two thousand years ago. I wield a sword that shuns all evil in the world. It is my duty to protect the innocent souls plagued by Nicodemus and his ilk, and any other blight that torments this green earth."

Harry's jaw literally touched the floor.

"W-What?" Samuel sputtered incredulously. "Is this a joke?"

"No, it is most definitely not a joke," Michael grunted. "I apologize. I know that this is a lot to take in. I already risk too much by saying those words. I must go."

"Wait," Harry pleaded, clasping Carpenter's shoulder as he rose to leave. "Would you at least tell us just what the hell happened on that island?"

Michael hesitated, doubt swimming in his eyes. He shook his head slowly.

"It is not my place. Really, I have to go. Damon will help you answer any more questions. Farewell."

With that said, Michael Carpenter turned away and walked down the hall, back hunched. He turned a corner and was gone. Harry sat back in Michael's former place, feeling more tired than ever.

"That helped," Samuel mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Daniel rose sharply, fists clenched.

"Where's that bastard Damon?" he growled, stalking down the corridor.

Out of nowhere, the object of his wish turned the corner Michael had just departed from. He stopped, sighting the three Aurors. Damon smiled encouragingly, hands spread.

"There you guys are!" he cried happily. "I've been looking all over for you! I thought I got lost for a moment there-"

Daniel punched the American in the face. Damon fell back, palm gripping his nose. He groaned on the floor, looking up at the towering Scrimgeour. He looked at his palms, which were filled with blood.

"What was that for, big guy?" Damon complained. "I know you're upset, but you-"

"WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE WERE RISKING OUR LIVES IN THAT CLEARING!" Daniel yelled indignantly. His face was flushed with unconstrained wrath. "WHERE WERE YOU WHEN RUTGER DIED! TELL ME!"

Damon scrambled backwards, away from the furious Auror. His nose still bled freely as he hit his back to the wall.

"Look," he gasped, eyes wide. "I know it seems bad, but I'm not a coward. I left to get the back-up I had previously set up. I wasn't running away."

"Maybe if you were there we wouldn't have had to call back-up…" Daniel snarled, crossing his arms sternly.

"Trust me," Damon scoffed. "It wouldn't have mattered. The target was out of all of our league, so I brought the only guy who stood a chance."

"Michael Carpenter?" Harry asked, joining his fellow Auror over the fallen American. "Was Michael Carpenter our back-up?"

"Yeah," Damon answered, nodding fervently. "He was our best chance. I called him before the mission, asking for his help. See," he said desperately. "I know people, that's why old Shacklebolt called me up."

"Are you even an Auror?" Samuel said, disgust lacing his tone. He fixed Damon a steely glare.

"No," Damon admitted, wiping the blood from his nose. "I'm not an 'Auror'. I'm just a wizard's apprentice."

Daniel clutched the frightened boy by the collar, staring hard into his wide eyes.

"One of my men died on this mission, Damon. I want answers, and I want them now."

Damon gulped.

"Okay," he said, quivering. "I'll give you answers. Before that, though, we're going to need permission from the Minister. Something happened that was never supposed to happen between our cultures. I'm going to need top clearance if I'm to tell you anything."

"Cultures?" Samuel snorted. "What are you talking about?"

Before anyone could say anything, they all felt a squeezing sensation stretch their limbs, and they were gone.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

When Harry awoke, he found himself staring into the stern face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The man was seated behind his mahogany desk, clad in his traditional robes made of fine linen and silk. They were colored purple, bright against his dark skin.

All of the Aurors were in the office of the Minister. The details of the room were clouded by a Sealing Charm, with the Minister and his desk the only visible thing in the office. They were standing on a multi-colored ornamental rug. The black man leaned forward.

"Now, I expect you all have questions…" he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

Daniel came up to him and bowed formally.

"Minister, it is a pleasure to see you. Yes, I do have questions. Just what in the world happened on Lady Holme?"

Shacklebolt inhaled deeply, leaning back into his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples wearily. After a while, the Minister opened his eyes.

"Many centuries ago," he began reluctantly. "Magic-kind were united under one single banner. Their name has been lost to history, but it was true all the same. This group, under reasons not to be told to you, split up into two factions: The White Council and the League of Magic, which eventually evolved into the International Confederation of Wizards. The Ministry of Magic is only a part of this division."

"What is the White Council?" Harry asked suddenly, stepping up to his old friend. "Why was the magical community not told of this? Kingsley, doesn't the public have a right to know?"

"No, Mr. Potter," the man grumbled ominously. "The knowledge of this division to the public would have severe consequences. This secret is only known by the Supreme Mugwump, myself, the Senior Council; and now you four. This was never meant to be publicly declared."

"But?" Damon added, almost excitedly.

"But things have changed. Something from their world has touched ours in a most unpleasant way. It is apparent that nothing will be the same. I have selected a dignitary to meet with the White Council to deliberate on these matters."

"Who is that?" Daniel asked, eyes alight with the prospect of meeting a new culture of wizards.

"Harry Potter."

They all looked at the famous Auror. Harry closed his eyes, feeling the scar ache once more. His family would have to wait.

"When do I leave?" he asked, voice cracking.

Kingsley stared at him with sad eyes.

"You leave tomorrow afternoon."

"To where?" Harry pressed.

"To America. You will be given the appropriate briefing and supplies to carry out the mission. You will be watched and protected as best as we can provide."

"Where am I to go in the States?" the Man Who Lived asked. Things just kept on getting better and better.

"To Chicago, Illinois. There you will meet a wizard who shall be your partner the rest of your journey. To my knowledge, he too suffered an attack by assailants. This time, however, these attackers bore trace Dark Marks on their wrists."

Harry froze. Things were settling in a wider scope than he had previously imagined. Dark Marks, Denarians, what was going on?

"What is his name?" Harry inquired, feeling a urge of excitement flare in his chest despite his desire to stay with his family.

Kingsley searched through a file of papers, flipping until he apparently found the right one. He had to squint to read the name.

"Harry Dresden, Private Investigator/Wizard. He looks like an interesting character."

The Minister handed the photograph to the outstretched hand of Potter. The Auror took it and inspected the picture. He lifted his eyebrow.

"With those clothes, I'll bet he is."

**AN: Short, I know. Please read and review! NO FLAMES PLEASE! Expect Dresden in the next chapter! **

**Guardian Writer: I included Malfoy for the sake of including Malfoy . It sounds stupid, I know, but I really wanted to put him in my story. I had an excuse, but in hindsight, its stupid, so I won't justify myself. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Holylight88: Thanks for reviewing, dude! I'll try to answer questions and satisfy readers as I progress! 'Till next time! **


	3. An Appointment with Fate

**AN: Here's the third chapter. If anyone of you is reading ****The MiddleEarth Campaign**** or ****Endwar: Breaking Point****, sorry for the wait. I want to get a few chapters in this story before I return to those ones. Plus, writer's block has decided to put up a long-term residence in my brain, and my muse is running low on inspiration. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one! **

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I own absolutely nothing except for my OCs. **_

**Two Days before Denarian/Auror conflict on Lady Holme: **

_It was cold._

_ It shouldn't have been, considering I was smack dab in the middle of New Mexico. I looked around, my head aching horribly and my thoughts swimming around my head. Widening my eyes from the pained squint they were in earlier, I took in my surroundings._

_ I was in the middle of a forest glade. The trees were huge, ancient, like the trees I had seen at Château Raith. That fact didn't discourage the creepy vibe the place was giving me. Snow was falling gently, adding to the already ankle-deep layer below me. In the foggy distance, I could see a castle looming above the canopy, its black spires reaching to the gray skies. The place looked vaguely European, English maybe. Whatever it was, I had no idea how I got there. By now, the cold was beginning to affect me, and my bare ankles felt like there were metal clamps around them. I looked down and realized I was dressed in a black traveler's cloak, with only a thin undershirt and trousers to protect my nakedness. _

_ "Okay, H- Harry," I said to myself, teeth chattering uncontrollably, "Retrace your steps. You finished training with Ramirez and headed back to your cabin. You fell asleep. This is a dream, then. No worries, Dresden. I-It's just a d-dream…"_

_ Like that helped a bunch._

_ I stumbled through the very tangible snow, trying to reach the shelter of the trees ahead of me. Maybe if I found a cave and a fire, I could have a hope of survival._

_ Yeah, might as well wish for a bachelor pad and champagne while I'm at it._

_ "H-Hello?" I called weakly. "I-Is anyone t-there?"_

_ Nothing but the wind._

_ Discarding my thoughts on how the hell I got here, I rushed into the underbrush. The ferns and bushes smacked against my legs, scraping my knees and my more sensitive unmentionables. I gritted my teeth and plowed onwards, determined to find refuge in this freezing hell. I looked up, the tips of the castle towers still visible. The picture of a cozy chair in front of a warm fireplace popped up inside my head._

_ I moved with a larger goal this time._

_ I had walked maybe a few yards when something sailed out of the trees and smashed into my chest. Before I cried out and fell, I was able to get a glimpse of it._

_ Was I crazy, or did a lance of red energy just knock me onto my ass?_

_ I lay atop the cold snow, stars in my vision. It felt like a freight train had crashed into me. A freight train of scarlet energy. Before I could deduce what had just hit me, I heard footsteps crunching against the snow. Towards me._

_ I gasped for air and struggled to rise; reaching into the folds of my cloak for something I was not even aware I had. I withdrew a small staff, about as long as a yard stick. It was pure white, perfectly camouflaged against the snowy backdrop. It thrummed with raw energy as I gripped it tighter. Whatever it was, I had the strangest feeling that it was made for me._

_ The footsteps sounded nearer, and I managed to open my eyes and point the staff threateningly at my assailant._

_ "S-Stay back or I shall strike!" I snarled in a language I had never even knew I could speak. It sounded like Old English, but I could never be sure._

_ Lash? I thought quietly. There was no answer._

_ The figure walked into my line of sight. He too was wearing a cloak, although his was brown and melded with thick animal furs. He had brown furred pants, akin to moccasins. Brown hair fell in locks down his head, covering the forehead of a handsome, even noble, face. His green eyes were hardened with anger, but they lightened in surprise and fear when they locked onto me._

_ "Merlin?" he cried in that same flowing language, but guttural with harsh consonants. He had a young voice, like a damn teenager. "By the gods, I thought you were a Dark Wraith! Here, let me assist you!"_

_ He rushed over to me, strong hands pulling me to my unsteady feet. I coughed, and blood landed on the other boy's collar. He looked at me with concern and fright, and carried me towards the castle gate. It loomed above us, and armored men were patrolling the stone battlements. The boy cried for help, and two guards appeared out of nowhere in front of us._

_ Was it just me, or were they carrying wands when large broadswords hung ready for use at their waist?_

_ As I was pulled into the castle courtyard, I looked up at the boy's face. I felt I knew him from somewhere, and suddenly the name popped up in my head._

_ "G-Godric?" I croaked._

_ Then I fell into darkness._

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Despierta_, Dresden! Time for a new day!"

I opened my eyes and mumbled something unintelligibly.

"I know that you think I'm the most handsome and humorous Warden alive, but you need to get up. There are future Wardens to train, Harry."

I recognized the voice through its sheer vanity and stupidity.

I moaned. "Ramirez, you better get out of my cabin before I _Forzarze_ the hell out of your Spanish ass."

He made a very unmanly squeal and hightailed it out of my sleeping quarters. When his footsteps receded, I made a decision to get up from my super-cozy bed.

Cabin Dresden wasn't the most tidiest of cabins in Camp Kaboom. Sure, it was better than some of the trainees' rooms, but in the Warden category I took the prize, hands down. My various articles of clothing were scattered around the wooden floor, covering almost every inch of brown wood. The dresser was lying on its side, its contents spilling out of a massive crack in the exterior. My blasting rod lay a few meters away, abandoned in my fit of rage the other night. A lantern hung next to the door, dark and unused. It looked very much like my apartment back in Chicago, and I wanted to keep it that way. What can I say? I'm not one for change.

One Chicago police sergeant could testify to that fact.

Groaning, I stretched until my bones creaked from the effort, and got dressed. I hastily pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T. After that, I picked up my beloved leather duster and put it on. Finally, I donned my trusty hat. There, my wardrobe for the day was complete. Any second now a slue of crazed fashion editors would call me for an immediate appointment.

My fashion sense, in my opinion, was the best out there.

Before I left, my thoughts drifted to the events that occurred the other day. I shuddered. I didn't like what happened, but it had to be done. After all, you don't just let a team of ghouls who had slaughtered two innocent twins get away scot-free. No sir. Sure, the kids thought I was the Undertaker from Hell, but I had secured safety for the time being. After what I did to the bastards, the Black Council, Red Court, or any megalomaniac organization would have to think twice before attacking Camp Kaboom.

Then, I thought about the dream.

The dream was a bit hazy, but I managed to keep the gist of it. Snow, blood, and the mysterious boy kept swirling in my head like a distracting whirlpool. Who the heck was Godric? I pushed that aside for the time being. I had training to do.

I sighed, picked up my blasting rod, opened the door, and stepped outside.

Bright sunlight hit my groggy face, and I almost fell back from the surprise. Luckily, I pulled it down to a squeak and a half-stumble, but I heard the giggles anyway. I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the New Mexico sun, cleared my throat, and walked.

Camp Kaboom. Carlos and I had christened the camp that name because the site had originally been a boomtown, centered around a vein of copper underground. Plus, we were working with fire magic, so there were plenty of kabooms going around each day. The kids had pitched their tents inside the ruins of an Old West church's walls. Luccio had joined them, but Ramirez, the other two Wardens, and I chose the remains of a salon/brothel to sleep in. Old habits die hard, it seems.

Carlos and his henchmen were strolling down the sand, looking as fresh and young as ever. Bastards. They smiled brightly at the students as they received their breakfast. I managed a few grunts of appreciation and a leer at a boy who obviously didn't know how to prepare good coffee.

Harry no like bad coffee. Harry no like _you._

I kept that comment to myself and walked away from the line of pots and trainees, sitting down at my favorite spot of mealtime: A boulder. I was looking more Paleolithic every second. I chowed down, muttering to myself.

"Hey, Dresden," Ramirez crowed from a ways off. "Looking good this morning!"

"Bite me!" I called back.

"Warden Dresden!"

I said a bad word and turned around.

Captain Luccio stood behind me, her arms folded across her chest. She was young, almost as old as Ramirez, who was not even thirty. Curling, brown locks, a gorgeous face, and killer dimples made up the majority of her features. Well, the ones that mattered, anyway. When I met her, she was a severe, gray-haired matron. After a scuffle with a necromancer named Corpsetaker, she had switched bodies. Considering the fact that I had shot the creepy bitch in the head, Warden Luccio was not able to escape her now young, and pretty, body. Needless to say, I wasn't complaining.

"Warden Dresden," she said with a faint Italian accent. "A word, if you will."

I set my breakfast platter to the ground, got up, and walked towards her. I looked down at her when I reached the tiny captain.

"Good morning, Luccio," I said. "What's the matter?"

"I wanted to speak with you about the events of yesterday."

I grunted. "Of course you do. Before you say anything, I just wanted you to know that-"

"It was necessary?" she interrupted, lifting a dainty eyebrow. "That your actions were perfectly justifiable? The massacre of two children is a horrible thing indeed, Dresden, but Wardens are an institution of order and stability. We are training these students to act with precision, calm, and restraint."

A flare of anger sparked in my chest, and I jutted my chin in defiance. "We're fighting a war, Luccio. We don't have the luxury of teaching these kids 'restraint'. Hell, ghouls are the least of our problems right now. We have an entire court of blood-thirsty vampires out to get us." I scoffed. "Restraint. Yeah, that'll get us far."

Luccio's pretty face hardened, and something dangerous lit her brown eyes.

"Your actions aren't the only thing that needs restraint, Harry. You seem to forget I'm your commanding officer here. I expect you to show some respect."

I balled my fists, but otherwise kept my anger to myself. I turned around and crossed my arms.

"Harry," she said quietly, more gently. "I know how you feel. I sense the fury inside of you, eager to erupt. I worry about you sometimes."

"What for?" I spat. "You're my commanding officer. That's all you will be."

I literally felt her tense in surprise, and I immediately regretted my words. I turned around.

"Look, Anastasia," I began.

"Go back to your former place, Warden Dresden," she said coldly. Her face was a mask of severity. "You may resume your breakfast."

With that said, she walked away, shoulder's hunched.

Open mouth, insert foot. Way to go, Harry. Way. To. Go.

Something smashed into my back and sent me sprawling.

My duster was no ordinary duster. Over the years, near-death experiences involving gun-wielding madmen and spell-hurling sorcerers prompted me to imbue my leather duster with numerous protection spells. It shielded me from any stray bullets or weakly-powered spells, and it saved my life a couple of times.

I looked back and found the strike had burned a nine-inch wide hole in the back of my beloved coat.

"FUCK!" I screamed, scrambling backwards.

I heard Luccio shout out orders, and a stampede of footsteps signaled the retreat of the trainees from the clearing. I felt a pair of strong arms grab me and pull me to my feet.

"_Madre de Dios_, Harry," Ramirez whispered. "What happened to your duster?"

"Some bastard hit me with a spell," I replied, snarling. "I'll kill him!"

"And you wonder why Luccio worries about you."

I shot him a glare, and he returned it with a bright smile.

"Warden Dresden, Ramirez!" Luccio called from the distance. I looked to see her and the other two young Wardens escorting the kids into the broken down church. "Pursue the intruders!"

By the time she was finished, I was already sprinting into the woods, my blasting rod in hand.

Ramirez was no slouch, but when it came to running, I was far ahead of him. For one, I had super long legs, and the poor Hispanic had trouble catching up to me in a _walking _contest. Two, several years of being chased by demons, monsters, etc., running kind of becomes a natural thing. I had caught up to the unknown invader just seconds after being hit.

"_Forzarze_!" I roared, blasting rod pointed menacingly towards the dark-clothed figure.

Pure kinetic energy soared into the back of the intruder, sending him flying towards a thick tree trunk. The figure collided with the tree, letting out a pained grunt. I stalked towards the fallen figure, rod raised.

The invader turned around from where he lay. He had a thick black beard covering the majority of his pale face. He was bald, and it was apparent that he had grown the beard just recently. His thin lips were pulled back in a snarl, his yellow teeth visible. The man raised his wand, and the strangest spell I had ever heard issued from his smiling mouth.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A sickly green light erupted from the tip of his wand, racing towards me in a stream of energy. I smirked, gripping my bracelet and raising a shield to counter the thin spell that sailed towards me even now. The viridian spell met my shield, briefly pausing as if contemplating the sudden barrier that had blocked it in its tracks.

Then it simply _passed _through my shield as if it wasn't there.

Time slowed down. My thoughts and brain accelerated as the green light floated ever closer to me. I didn't know what the hell it was, or what it would do to me if it hit. Heck, it could have been a simple blasting spell, and the worse it could've done was throw me back on my can. All this could have happened, but something in my instinctive, primal part of my brain warned me: _Do not let that touch you_. Events in the past have prompted me to listen to that side of my brain, and listen to it I did.

I threw myself to the side at the last second, and the green energy struck a tree behind me. The trunk died before me, the very life seeping out of it by the second. Branches drooped, their leaves withering and falling to the grass below. The massive tree buckled and bent over.

Soon, the once firm and massive tree looked like an old crone compared to its brethren.

I gulped.

The man's smile grew even wider, and a vile chuckle rumbled in his chest. He lifted his wand and pointed it at me. I was down, and my blasting rod lay a few feet beside me. I cursed and reached out for it as fast as I could.

I was too slow.

"_Avada-_"

An orb of emerald energy hit the man in the ribs. He screamed in agony, his charged wand dropping to the sand below. He writhed on the ground, clutching his side and cursing. Ramirez stepped towards him, gathering another orb of disintegrating energy in his palm. In his other hand was a freaking Desert Eagle. Carlos turned the man on his back with his foot and stared down at him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, voice stony. "What are you doing here?"

The man spat blood onto the Warden's trousers.

"Wrong answer, boyo!" I called from the side.

Carlos lifted his deadly sidearm and shot the man once on the leg. That was another reason why I liked Ramirez. He was friendly, confident, and utterly ready to dish out the pain when needed. When it came to restraint, he had one foot on one side and one on the other, but he wasn't soft-hearted.

The intruder screamed some more, and I was beginning to get annoyed.

I stood and approached the fallen man. The two of us must've looked like giants in the perspective of the man. Giants with evil grins on their faces.

"Now," I said, twirling my blasting rod in one hand. "Let's try again. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

He was silent.

"Hurry, before I decide to repay you for burning a fucking hole in my duster. You think this hurts? Trust me, you'll be screaming for _hours_ once I'm done with you."

This seemed to register in his thick skull, and fear appeared in his eyes. He gulped and leaned back a little, away from us.

"A-Alright," he stammered, in a British accent. "I'll tell you, for God's sake. J-Just don't hurt me anymore."

I traded a look with Ramirez.

"We'll decide that after you start talking," I said. "Now, spill it."

He closed his eyes, muttered something, and began to spill it.

"W-We were just hired for a hit, that's a-all. That's all I know, honest!"

Ramirez lifted his gun.

"NO! God, no! That's all I know, please!"

I pushed my friend's arm down gently. He looked at me in surprise, but I shook my head. I knelt down beside the man and picked up his combat wand. It was wooden, of course, with a small groove for a handle. I snapped it in two.

His eyes widened, but he said nothing.

It was time for my little ball of sunshine.

I opened my palm, face-up, and a tiny sphere of light coalesced in front of his eyes. It gathered and formed a single orb, no larger than a baseball. The heat, however, was deadly hot. The invader lay there, mesmerized by the miniature sun in front of him.

"Now, let's start over." I said in a low voice. "Who are you?"

He said nothing, and I prompted the ball closer to his face. He backed off and looked at me. I made my face as expressionless as I could, and this got to him.

"Jugson," he whimpered, eyes fixed onto the floating star. "I am called Jugson."

I nodded. "What are you doing here?"

Judging by his pause, I guessed he needed some encouragement. I willed the orb closer until it grazed the tip of his flat nose. He yelped in pain and stumbled back, but the fire was following his every move. His back hit a tree, and he froze.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated.

"T-To kill Harry Dresden." he whispered.

I crouched there, shocked. Ramirez cursed and approached the man, but I stopped him with a hand. I glared at Jugson.

"You know who I am, then?"

Jugson nodded, sweat pouring down his pale, chubby face.

"Why were you sent to kill me?" I asked.

The man licked his lips and regarded the orb. It was directly in front of his face now.

"A man met us in London…" he began, despair lacing his words.

"Us?" Ramirez interrupted. "Who's _us_?"

"Me and two mates of mine. Like I said, a man propositioned us when we were still in hiding. He offered us power, wealth, and women. A chance to escape our perpetual days of hiding from the blasted Ministry. Naturally, we took it, but he said I needed to complete a task before we could get the power."

"I'm guessing that task was to mosey down here and gut me?" I prodded.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving my ball of sunshine. As he lifted a hand to block the shine, I noted a weird marking on his wrist. It was faded, but I caught the impression: An elongated skull with a snake slithering through its mouth. _Cultists_, I though with disgust.

"Who was the man who approached you?" Carlos asked quietly, leaning down to look at Jugson.

"I don't know. He never gave us a name. I swear it by my mum's grave."

"Good for you." I replied drily. "Is there anything unique about that man that you can remember?"

His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember the man.

"Yeah, I think there was something. Everything about him seemed wrong. There was something in his eyes that told me he wasn't normal, and a quiet voice that wasn't his kept whispering inside me head all the time."

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"Yeah, there is, now that I think about it. His shadow never followed his movements, you know? Like it had independent thought. Plus, he wore a rope around his neck like it was some damn tie. I don't know if it-"

I let the ball loose in my frustration.

It sailed away from Jugson's face and hit the ground, where it turned the sand into molten glass. Jugson squeaked.

"God damn it all!" I roared, standing up and stalking away from him.

I heard a cry of pain as Ramirez knocked the man out with the butt of his Desert Eagle. The Hispanic man turned to me, confused.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Do you know the man?"

"Yeah, I do," I spat. Things were getting better and better. "Unfortunately."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Nicodemus," I answered, walking back towards the direction of Camp Kaboom. "He's the most dangerous man I've ever met."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Present Day/ Chicago, Illinois:**

Harry Potter knocked on the door of the office. Printed in black blocky letters on the frosted glass window was: **Harry Dresden, Wizard**.

He had exited the airport only an hour ago, setting foot on American soil for the first time in nine years. The first time was to visit a family friend in New York for two weeks. From the first time he saw the clogged streets and starless skies, he knew he wouldn't have a good relationship with the United States.

Everything was too noisy and busy. He had woken up many a night in his hotel room because of the constant beep of horns and yells of angry pedestrians. That was in 1:00 in the morning. It seemed as if everyone was living the fast life; including the friends his family had visited. George Harrison, the man Harry had met in a bookstore in London, was a business executive in Wall Street. He and his wife were very busy people, and their daughter, Lizzy, often found herself home alone save for the maid and butler. Lily had befriended her doing their trip, and it felt good to see the two young girls bonding so well. That was one of the only good things that Harry liked about New York. That and Central Park.

When he arrived in Chicago, it was even worse. O'Hare International Airport was big, crowded and loud, and he immediately regretted agreeing to the excursion. First of all, he had to use Muggle transport to get there. There was no Floo system in America, and going via broomstick was too long and arduous. Apparating was too risky, so commercial flight was the best option. He remembered looking around the giant airport, seeing hundreds of men and women walking around, fiddling with their Muggle gadgets and gizmos.

Arthur Weasley would've loved to be here.

Harry knocked one more time, feeling a little impatient. A man who had labeled himself under "Wizard" in the phonebook wasn't really bond to have much business. He was about to unlock the door with _Alohamora _when it suddenly opened in front of him, and he found himself staring into the barrel of a shotgun.

The bearer of the weapon was tiny, a couple of heads shorter than Harry. She had long blonde hair, falling behind pale pretty features that were frozen in cold fury. Blue eyes stared glacially at the Auror. She was wearing a police uniform, with the CPD logo imprinted on her shoulder pad.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice far too girlish to be coming from a woman holding a shotgun.

"M-My name is Harry," the wizard stammered, eyes fixed on the double-barreled shotgun.

The woman grunted. "Bull. I know Harry. Get out of his office."

"No," Harry responded with a placating grin. "Not Dresden. My name is Harry Potter. I was supposed to meet up with him."

"You're a client then?" she asked, dropping the gun down a fraction.

"Yes, I'm a client. I would like it if you pointed that gun away from me."

The police officer dropped the gun fully. She assessed Harry with a long stare. He felt as if he were being stripped down. After a few uncomfortable seconds, she nodded.

"Sorry. I don't usually introduce myself like this. I'm Sergeant Karrin Murphy."

Harry shook her hand, one eyebrow still cocked.

"Did the situation call for a shotgun?" he inquired, jutting his chin at the shotgun held in her hand.

Spots of red flickered on her cheeks for a moment, but it vanished as soon as it had come.

"No. I kind of overreacted. It's just that when Harry gets visitors, they're not usually the friendly type, get me?"

"I got you…" Harry answered, nodding in understanding. He took a breath and looked around.

The first impression he got that no one had stepped in his office for a long time. The desk was more or less neat, with a few papers stacked in order on the top. Something that looked like bloodstains spotted the table in some places. A coffeemaker was running; this Murphy was probably making some for herself.

"Are you a friend?" he asked politely. "Of Harry's, I mean."

"Yeah," she answered, moving over to the coffeemaker and pouring herself a cup. He was still astounded on how short she was, but he didn't dare voice it. After all, the shotgun was only a hands breath away. "More or less. He saved my ass a couple of times, I saved his. We've got a deeper working relationship than most."

"That is interesting." Harry replied genuinely. "You work with the local law enforcement?"

She snorted. "It would be easier to say 'police' rather than 'local law enforcement', but I guess you Brits like saying stuff longer than usual."

Harry looked back at her, confused.

"To answer your question, yes. I do work with the 'local law enforcement'. I'm with SI, Special Investigations. It's the department that gets handed all the weird stuff: UFO abductions, werewolf on the loose, etc. That's one of the main reasons why I met this guy. I came to see if his office was dirty, and sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed. Place looked like a pigsty before I got to it."

She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes settling in a faraway look. The Auror stood there awkwardly, running up conversational follow-ups in his head. He found it much more difficult to talk with an American than a fellow Brit.

"Special Investigations?" Harry said after what felt like a year-long wait. "I wasn't aware Muggles were-"

He stopped, berating himself inwardly. _Might as well tell her about the whole blasted Ministry while you're at it, Potter_.

Sergeant Murphy arched a delicate golden eyebrow and stared at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

"What's a muggle?" she asked.

"Nothing. Slip of the tongue, is all. Anyways, do you know where Harry Dresden is? I'd like to speak with him for a moment-"

The door behind him opened, and the two occupants of the office turned to look.

A tall man entered the office. He stood a head higher than Harry, but was a little lanky too look very muscular or healthy. He had too many rough edges to be considered handsome, but he wasn't ugly or anything. The man's black hair had short waves in it, covered almost fully by a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes were a little sunken, as if he was recovering from a bout of insomnia. Harry could tell the man didn't have many chances to get a full night's sleep. His chin was sharp, though, giving him an aura of alertness that betrayed his appearance. The man wore a big leather duster over a black shirt and blue jeans; he looked very much out of place from the rest of Chicago.

The man stopped, ignoring Harry and looking immediately at Karrin.

"Sergeant Murphy!" he said in gritty voice, not too deep but not high pitched. "I wasn't expecting your lovely company. And I see you have raided my supply of coffee."

"Can it, Dresden," she grunted, though Potter could sense she was happy that he was here. "You have a visitor."

Harry looked at Harry.

Potter felt something tug at his gut, as if the presence of this man awoke something forgotten in his mind. A wave of nostalgia and familiarity crashed over the Auror, though Harry had no idea why. He had never seen this man in his life. He stared into the fellow wizard's eyes.

Dresden looked away hastily, an expression of confusion and amazement on his face. Murphy stood there, her blue eyes flicking from Harry to Harry.

Dresden cleared his throat. "So," he began. "You're a client."

"Yes." Harry was still undergoing the aftermath of the peculiar feeling.

"Uh, I have to apologize; I just got back from a summer camp thing. Can I speak with you later?"

He turned to leave, looking at Murphy and gesturing with his head outside the door. Potter caught him by the arm as he turned around. "Please, Mr. Dresden…" he began. Dresden shot him a glare and shoved his hand away.

"Jeez, man, I didn't think Brits were so pushy. I said let's talk later."

"Mr. Dresden, this is a matter of the utmost importance-"

"Well, this matter of the utmost importance can wait mister green eyes. _Later_."

A twinge of annoyance and impatience flared in Harry's chest as the tall man left the office. Sergeant Murphy gave him an understanding look and followed Dresden out the door. For a few seconds, Harry Potter stood there in the office room feeling a shocked, and a bit stupid.

_Screw this,_ he thought. _I didn't leave my family, see a guy get killed, almost get killed myself, and fly to America to get rebuffed by some upstart wizard-for-hire_.

Harry stormed out the door, spying Dresden and Murphy locked in conversation down the hall. He approached them, fists clenched and trying not to lift his wand. The taller Harry spotted him stalking down the hall and leered.

"Mr. Dresden!" Potter cried, dodging through a couple of interns carrying stacks of paper. "I don't think this can wait!"

"Man, you just don't give up, do you?" Dresden sighed, clearly exasperated. He walked towards Harry, much to the chagrin of his police officer friend.

"Harry!" Murphy warned.

"WHAT!" they snapped. The two wizards gave each other a frustrated look and squared off.

"Look," Harry Dresden exhaled, looking down on the shorter wizard. "You're probably some poor guy who's plagued by pixies or haunted by some ghost, but believe me, this can wait. Give me your contact information and I'll catch up with you in a few days."

"Truly, this assignment cannot be delayed any longer. I need to talk with you _now_."

The air around them shimmered with the heat of potential violence. Potter narrowed his eyes. Dresden folded his arms across his chest. Murphy fingered her shotgun. A secretary sneezed.

"Alright," Harry (the American one) huffed after the tense silence. "Let's talk."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Great. Right after racing through the Nevernever to get home I find myself being propositioned by a crazy Brit. Needless to say, it wasn't one of my better days.

I sat down on my chair, feeling the familiarity of my office settle in. Murphy handed me a cup of coffee, which I took graciously. After a sip of the euphoric ambrosia, I took the first inspective look at my British client.

He was of medium-height, a little shorter than Thomas. The similarity between the two ended there. He had a mop of unruly black hair, the bangs falling down his forehead. Green eyes glittered on his pale face. I could see a vague scar on his forehead. The client was wearing brown khakis and a white dress shirt. I assessed him with a glare.

"You look like a big boy," I piped, hearing a snort from my tiny friend. "What's so bad that you had to come to me?"

He ignored the jibe. "First of all, my name is Harry Potter. I am from Great Britain-"

"Wow, I never knew." I snorted.

"-and I work for a magical organization called the Ministry of Magic. Recent events have prompted me to visit Chicago and talk with you about some issues that have appeared."

I stared at him for a while. "I've been to Britain, and I sure as hell don't remember any Ministry of Magic." I leaned over. "I don't think you're telling me everything, Mr. Potter."

The other man sighed and reached into his pocket.

Murphy's shotgun was up before I could raise an eyebrow.

"Don't even think about it." she intoned menacingly.

Harry (the more annoying one) sighed impatiently. "Sergeant Murphy, if I wanted to murder your friend don't you think I would have done so already?"

Murphy shrugged and pumped the shotgun.

"That's my girl," I muttered under my breath.

"Careful, Dresden," she muttered back. "You don't want _your_ brains scattered all over the wall now, do you?"

"Touché."

"Now, Sergeant Murphy, I will reach into my pocket and take out an item. If you deem this item inappropriate you may shoot to your heart's content."

He reached into his pocket, rummaged around a little, and took out a dozen inches of wood. Murphy narrowed her eyes at the wand and dropped her weapon a little.

"Harry? What do you think?" she asked me, her blue eyes never leaving Potter.

"I don't know. Combat wands aren't uncommon, heck; even the Merlin carries around a few." I looked at the seemingly unassuming man seated in front of me. "What does this prove to me, Mr. Potter?"

He pointed his wand at my coffee mug.

"_Ferroverto_," he whispered calmly.

The mug shifted, its contours writhing and rippling so fast that I almost fell of my seat. Murphy let out a very girly (and cute I might add) squeak and released her shotgun. It dropped to the floor. The cup finally ended its transformation, leaving a large brown rat sitting in the place of my coffee mug.

"Jesus Christ…" I muttered. "I got that mug for my birthday."

Murphy seemed to recover from her shock must faster than I did. "Harry," she hissed. "Is that possible?"

"No wizard I've seen can do something like that," I answered, glaring at the rather smug looking Harry in front of me. I added with a whisper, "Then again, he's not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve."

I clutched my energy bracelet and faced Potter.

"_Dorme_," I chanted. "_Dormio dorme_."

The man slumped in his chair, his green eyes closed. His chest heaved slowly, indicating a deep sleep."

"Could you watch him, Murphy?" I asked, rising from my seat and wishing I hadn't fucking decided to come to my office so early in the morning. "I've got a few calls to make."

**AN: Thanks for the positive reviews guys! I appreciate it a lot! Remember to review as you read: There's nothing I love more than reader feedback! **

**Nimbus Llewelyn: Samuel is actually the one with the scar, but I still understand the confusion. Anyways, thanks for the review!**

**PiotrMc: I love them too!**

**LazyPlotBunnies: Thanks for reviewing, man! I hope you follow along some more!**

**GodricGeoffreyGryffindor: I'll try to reveal the real reason why the two entities split up, but that'll come later, I promise. True, they should've been pissed, but I was a little lazy to add conflict so I put up with that. Hope you don't mind . If Harry used the Killing Curse, it would probably go against his nature: He didn't even use it against old Voldemort. For the others, I kind of missed that little detail. You'll find I'll make tons of errors along the way, so bear with me please. For the record, I don't think even the killing curse would've done any damage: His noose prevents him from death. Anyways, feel free to ask anymore questions if you like!**

**Dnar Semaj: Thanks for reviewing! I'll try to add some of those references as I continue the story.**

**QueenThayet12990: Thank you! I appreciate your positive feedback a lot. Hope this chapter doesn't spoil your taste :/**

**Lieutenant Winter: LOL, thanks. Yeah, I didn't know about the nails thing so I'll have to look that up. For Ginny, I just think she looks more attractive with green eyes, so I think I have to put "slightly AU" on the plot summary. Hope you liked this chapter!**

**I don't know if I'll be able to update soon, but I'll try as soon as I can. See you guys later! **


	4. A Good Day for an Ambush

**AN: Sorry for the wait, guys. I was busy with finals and all, and I was stumped with this story for quite a while. I finally managed to sit down and write, and I hope this satisfies you. If I made any glaring mistakes, or if you don't agree with something, feel free to PM me! Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.**

I walked down the office hallway, pissed and showing it. I made it a note to glare at every innocent bystander unlucky enough to get in my way. I must've made quite a scene: A tall, angry man wearing a large duster and wielding a hefty staff with a serious glare stalking down the hall. People avoided me like the plague.

"Hello, my host…" a seductive, female voice crooned in my head.

Speaking of painful diseases…

"My, my, Harry. This new arrival has gotten you into quite a rampage." Lasciel whispered in an almost gossipy tone.

Lasciel, a.k.a Lash, was the current resident fallen angel booking a room in Hotel Dresden. I had gotten her after a two-thousand-year-old lunatic flipped a coin bearing Lasciel towards my friend's youngest son. Before he could get his grubby little toddler hands on it, I had jumped and snatched it away. Sure, I had acquired a voluptuous yet annoying partner fiddling around in my head, but the thought of her lurking in little Harry's head always sent shivers down my spine. Needless to say, I was more or less content with outcome. Right now, she was just a mere shadow of her real self embedded in the coin a few feet under my basement floor, but she was still dangerous.

"What is it now, Lash?" I grumbled under my breath. No use scaring more people by slurring loudly to myself. "If you want me to take up the coin, don't bother."

"Sadly, no," she answered as I entered the mail room and browsed through my little cubby. "However, the offer remains."

I exhaled through my nose.

"All right, all right. I concede. On another note-"

"Thank _God_."

"On another note," she repeated. I could hear the slight irked tone in her voice. "This _Harry Potter_ character is quite an enigma, you might be thinking. Oh, if there was only some eternal being with the knowledge of almost everything magical in the mortal demesne that could help you solve this mystery…"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "Bob could definitely help me with this! Thank you, Lash!"

I felt a painful jab somewhere inside my brain. I bit my lip, the pain almost unbearable.

"Sheesh, you're grumpy today."

"You seem to forget that I am a being that watched your kind form from the revolting soil by Hands that you did not deserve. Sometimes I tire of your constant lip."

I was silent for a moment. I once more traversed the hall, storming up the steps that lead to my office. I stopped at the door and leaned against the wall patiently.

I grunted. "Okay, what do you have for me?"

"The wand that this man withdrew from his pocket was of an ancient and foreign make, crafted by those of a different association than your White Council."

"Woah, woah, hold on a second." I sputtered. "Are you saying that there's a whole different branch of wizardry different from the White Council!"

Hell's bells. What Lasciel was saying meant that everything that has ever been taught by the White Council concerning the position of itself as the sole authority on magic was false. The information sent my jaw hanging.

"Buh, buh, buh, wah!" I articulated quite eloquently.

"How incompetent. If you do not believe me, ask your newfound friend. He is just about to wake, anyways."

I perked up, my shock dissipated. "Wait, why so soon? I still have to make my calls first."

"Oh, boo-hoo, Dresden. I think that can wait. Now, go along."

I sighed, muttered a few pleasant curses, and opened the door. I found Murphy standing beside our guest, the muzzle of her double-barreled shotgun pressed against his ribs. His back was facing me, and he struggled to twist in the bindings the sergeant had imposed upon him.

"Ah, Dresden," he gritted. "You're here. Untie me, please."

"Not so fast, Churchill. I want to ask you a few questions first." I walked to my desk and gulped down a swig of a coffee mug Karrin had so nicely provided. "And I think it would suit you better if you answered them truthfully."

His green eyes blazed, and he fixed me a glare.

"Look, I do not have time for this-" he began.

"I do. Now, question one. What kind of half-assed spell did you pull on my coffee mug a few minutes ago?"

He furrowed his brow. "A transfiguration spell," he explained, a hint of impatience in his tone. "I'm sorry, I need you to guide me to your council of leaders right away. We have important matters to discuss."

"Discuss them right here. Trust me, I'm a good listener."

Murphy snorted.

Potter made an annoyed sound in his throat, and he wriggled in the chair. "My employers have arranged a meeting with your White Council at noon today, Mr. Dresden. I believe they are here at Chicago already, and having your superiors know about your delay of my arrival would be most unpleasant."

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't give a rat's ass about what the Merlin and his cronies think of me. So, I'd start singing if I were you, or things could go badly."

He stared at me with wide eyes. Murphy fidgeted uncomfortably and looked at me.

"Harry, just let him go. He's an honest man, and I don't get the big deal with keeping him here. Sure, he did some whacky spell, but there's no need to truss him up like he's cattle."

I leered at her. "That wasn't some 'whacky spell', Karrin. It takes a great deal of magic to morph a totally inanimate, dead object into a living being with a flick of a wand. Frankly, I've never seen anything like it. So, I want to know what the hell it was, and I want to know now."

"Well, Dresden," Murphy replied patiently. "Won't it be better to bring him to the Merlin so he can explain what he did to the whole White Council?"

I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to fry the Brit's ass where he sat. He seemed to read my feelings, looking intently into my eyes. I looked away before a soulgaze could occur. He smiled.

Cheeky bastard.

"Fine," I scoffed, bottling up my pent up rage. "Fine, I'll take you to the Council. To be honest, I had no idea they were gathering here today, but I know the regular place. Sergeant Murphy, if you will."

She untied Potter, her shotgun dropping down a fraction. The visitor stood, flexing his wrists and arms. He stretched, a half-smile etched on his face. I bet he was a killer with the ladies.

"Now," Potter sighed, cracking his neck twice. "Let's get going, shall we?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The wizard/investigator had parted ways with Murphy as they lead Harry down the office complex. She had to return with the Muggle police department to consult some recent affairs. Plus, evidently, mortals were not allowed to visit the designated meeting place without consent from the Senior Council. Harry followed the other wizard cautiously, out of the building and into a dirty parking space. Dresden kept looking back and forth, his shrewd eyes checking every corner and each shadow as if it held potential enemies. Harry knew those actions well; he had once done them in the past during the days with Voldemort. Harry Dresden had the aura of a man under fire. He was someone who knew little peace in his world, and had enemies literally lurking around every corner. His broad shoulders were hunched, and his gait stiff. The taller wizard paused and glared back at him.

"Going too fast for you, man? C'mon, catch up."

Harry arched an eyebrow. Dresden probably didn't know what he was doing at the moment. It was as if those movements had grown instinctive. Harry was both anxious and impressed. The man had, obviously, a lot of experience, but he also had a bucket load of enemies. The auror began to get the impression that traveling with Harry Dresden wasn't always the safest thing to do.

The pair stopped at a blue Volkswagen Beetle parked between two large SUVs. It looked battered and beaten, as if it had been rolled down the side of a very tall, rocky mountain.

Harry stared at Dresden for a moment. The wizard/investigator looked back at him and grunted.

"What?"

"You mean to tell me that we will be traveling in this tiny, light, abused little thing?" the auror asked incredulously. "Surely you're joking."

"Hey, don't talk like that. You might hurt its feelings."

Harry's eyebrows skyrocketed.

"Get in the damn car already, okay?"

Potter complied, opening the passenger door and crouching inside. The interior had obviously gone through dozens of repairs throughout the years. The bucket seats were nigh unbearable, and the thing looked like a machine gun had tore into the whole car. Harry buckled in, feeling very uncomfortable. Dresden noted this and grinned slightly.

"Don't worry," he remarked, starting the engine. It sputtered like an elderly lady suffering from prolonged tuberculosis. "The Blue Beetle is a grizzled old veteran. She'll hold."

"I hope so," Potter commented shakily, his face paling. "I sincerely hope so."

Harry ignored the jibe and pulled out.

They drove in silence for the duration of the trip, each man to his own thoughts. Both were suspicious of the other, plus, they had little to none knowledge of each other's abilities. The air was thick with tension.

They finally stopped at a seemingly abandoned warehouse located at a vacant spot of the city. Dresden parked the car, opened the door, and got out without a word. Potter sighed and did the same.

"So," the auror began. "Where is this White Council?"

"Don't worry, old chap," Dresden replied, his eyes scanning the building in front of him. "Any minute now one of 'em is going to swagger out of the building with an air of superiority that most of the White Council bears with them."

The door opened, and a dark-skinned, handsome young man came walking out of the building in a gray cloak and carrying an oaken staff. Dresden's lips twitched.

"You know him?" the British Harry asked.

"Yeah," he intoned. Dresden walked up to the Latino-looking man. "Hey, Ramirez, wasn't expecting you here."

"Yeah, well," the man replied with a faint accent. "After that last fiasco the Senior Council dragged me out here because I know you the best. I figured they need a leash to keep the dog restrained."

Harry snorted. "I didn't expect any less. Oh, yeah, Carlos, the skinny guy behind me is some sort of foreign guest to the White Council. I was supposed to bring him here. Harry Potter, this is Carlos Ramirez, Warden of the White Council. "

Carlos Ramirez regarded Harry with a pensive look. He looked at Dresden, who rolled his eyes. The warden turned back to Potter.

"Looks like you know a good fight, friend," the warden remarked respectfully. "What business brings you to the White Council?"

"Business that will be explained later on," the auror answered quietly. "To the Senior Council, if you don't mind."

Dresden gave his friend an _I-told-you-so_ look. Ramirez shrugged and opened the door.

"S'okay, man," the Latino grunted. "Private stuff, I get it. Just to warn you, though, the Merlin isn't the kind to wait patiently for you to explain, especially in times like these."

Harry furrowed his brow. "I've heard you people speaking of this 'Merlin' fellow for a while now. Are you speaking of the original one?"

Dresden scoffed. "As if. This guy's like really pissy and cranky every time I meet him. He's got a big problem with newcomers, I can tell you that."

Ramirez coughed.

"If it's any comfort," the warden commented as they walked down the dimly-lit hallways. "The Merlin's British, also. Don't know if you guys have some sort of mutual mental link between fellow countrymen."

"Hardly," Potter said drily.

They entered the building. Ramirez led them down a damp corridor, his polished boots clacking noisily as he walked. They turned a corner, and the warden opened a red door for the two wizards. He grinned.

"After you," the warden said.

Harry walked into the room.

The Senior Council was smaller than he expected. There were four present, a considerably smaller number than what Harry had calculated. Whenever he thought of a council, he conjured up the image of the Ministry's judicial court in his head. Black robes, haughty faces, the works. This council was less in number, but from what he could gauge, they were no less intimidating.

The one sitting nearest to him was elderly, but had an aura of assurance and strength that wasn't common in old men. He had grizzled white hair and a tanned face creased with wrinkles of age and worry. There was a matronly black woman sitting next to him; she looked refined, but not with an air of superiority. The other was a tall, tanned man with pronounced cheekbones and a feather sticking out of his long black hair. Something moved and stuck its head out of the man's stole.

"Is that…a raccoon?" Harry whispered to Ramirez.

"The raccoon's name," the man said in a deep, lyrical voice, "is Little Brother. Do you have a snack for him?"

Potter stared at him.

"Hoss," the grizzled man grunted. "Wasn't expecting you."

"Hey there, Ebenezer," Dresden piped. "I was around town, so I decided to pop in and visit my favorite band of miscreants."

"Dresden," a stentorian voice called from the back of the room. "What business brings you here?"

There was a man seated on a regal oaken chair. His hair was pure white, but it was as groomed and cared for as Ebenezer's was unkempt and wild. A snowy beard covered his chin. Icy blue eyes glared out from a pale face, elderly but cold. He was dressed in all white, and an aura of absolute power came off of him in waves. _If he was the Merlin_, Harry mused, _he must be the most powerful wizard on the planet_. The man did not regard him, however, but kept his gaze unflinchingly on the wizard PI.

"I came here to escort this chap," Dresden answered, meeting the Merlin's gaze as well. "He said he needed to speak with you."

"Yes, yes," he replied. The Merlin turned to look at Harry. It took all the auror's power to not look away from the wizard's glacial gaze. "We received word from his superiors a few days ago. They did not inform me that he would be sent to _you_. Hardly a sufficient escort, in my opinion."

Dresden grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The other man, Ebenezer, murmured something to him. The wizard-for-hire exhaled and promptly turned heel and walked out the door. Ramirez followed him out.

"Now, Mr. Potter," the Merlin said once the exit closed shut. "I believe you have come here regarding the murder of an associate by a member of our Accords?"

_Accords?_ "Yes, quite right. A group of colleagues and I had caught wind of a suspected black magic strain in the region of Cambria…"

Harry told the story as best he could, leaving out the parts of his vacation and the other personal business. All the while, the Senior Council listened attentively, the Merlin's eyes never blinking. He ended with his arrival in Chicago, omitting his spat with Dresden. The room was silent.

"Nicodemus Archleone," the black woman said. She was staring off to the side, lost in thought. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Of course, madam," Harry answered. "It was by his words alone."

"Words can be deceiving," the Native-American man interjected, his raccoon eating something from his palm. "It could be an imposter…"

Ebenezer snorted, and Harry almost jumped in surprise. "Not likely. I don't think anyone who pretended they were Nicodemus lived to tell about it, much less continue."

"The man, if you can call him a man, has operated in Britain before," the Merlin said. His eyes glazed over, as if remembering old horrors and plots. "The Black Plague, the Great Fire of London, disasters of death and destruction. The Denarians, however, have not set foot in England for centuries."

"A pack of wolves returning to old hunting grounds?" the Native-American supplied.

"Perhaps," Merlin mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Perhaps…"

Harry was beginning to lose patience. "This is most interesting, but I was sent here to make it abundantly clear that my superiors do not wish for our worlds to meet again. My boss, the Minister of Magic, wishes that we work together to dispose of this-"

"Unacceptable," the woman cut in. "The Denarians are signers of the Accords. By attacking them, we risk breaking laws older than anyone in this room. However vile the man is, Nicodemus is untouchable. Combating him is left to the Knights, such as the man you met on the island."

Harry couldn't believe anything he was hearing. He breathed though his nose and tried again. "Honored Merlin, Archleone has already killed more than a dozen Muggles, and we believe he intends to increase that number by a wide margin. Surely, you can help in any way-"

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," the Merlin said, but there was no trace of apology in his tone whatsoever. "We cannot help you in this matter. Unless Nicodemus attacks us, which I am sure he will not, the apprehension of the heinous criminal is up to your ministry."

Harry bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out in fury. He came all the way to bloody Chicago for nothing? Before he could say anything, the Merlin leaned forward, fixing him with a steely gaze.

"That will be all, Mr. Potter."

With that, he waved his hand and muttered something under his breath. The air in front of him warped, spiraling and coalescing until it widened into a crackling circle. Harry, despite his shock, craned his head to look around it. Inside was a dank tunnel lined with rows of blazing torches, winding down into shadow. The edges of the portal fizzed with contained energy.

"Good day," the Merlin said. He walked into the portal and was gone. Ramirez came in, Dresden at his heels. Ebenezer smiled at the wizard and followed the Merlin, followed by the woman and the native.

"Sorry about that," Ramirez whispered to Harry. "He's a bit grumpy."

The Latino walked out, and the portal shut with a crackle and a wave of residual heat. Potter stood there for a moment, baffled. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Dresden.

"What was that?" Potter asked.

"A Way," Dresden replied. "It leads into the Nevernever. Judging by your face, looks like you got rejected."

"More or less," Harry sniffed. "I was expecting a more good-natured bloke."

"The Merlin?" the taller wizard scoffed. "Arthur Langtry's so egotistic he makes Hitler look like a spoiled German school kid. C'mon, let's ditch this joint."

They walked out into the parking out. The sun was at its zenith, and Harry covered his eyes and groaned.

"Is it always this sunny in-?"

"Philadelphia?"

"_What?_"

"Nothing."

They reached the Blue Beetle, and the auror was once again graced with the sight of its abused frame. He regretted the trip even more, but he opened the door anyway. He heard something whistling towards him, to his right.

Being an auror for over a decade seemed to pay off, and he yelped and leapt to the side as the lance of red energy streamed past him and slammed into the pavement. Dresden cursed and whipped out a short staff carved with glowing runes. He screamed, "_Fuego!_", and pointed the staff at somewhere behind the auror. There was a blinding flash, and a river of fire poured from the end of the staff and at the unknown assailant. There was a sickening sizzle, followed by an anguished scream. Dresden gripped the dazed auror by the shoulder and shoved him up.

"You got a wand," the PI growled. "Use it."

Harry unclasped his wand and steadied himself. He gave a sidelong glance at the tall wizard. "You have my back?"

"Looks like it."

Something shifted in the shadow of the abandoned warehouse. Dresden snapped out a spell, and the air shimmered as an invisible force barreled into the wall of the warehouse. There was an ungodly shriek and the sound of wings flapping. A shape hurtled out from behind a garbage bin, targeting the wizard-for-hire. Harry pointed his wand at the dark shape and yelled, "_Immobulus!_" The thing froze and dropped to the concrete with a dull thud.

It was a mottled green, covered with crude black armor etched with archaic runes and symbols. It had a wicked looking scimitar in one gnarled hand, and it glared at the auror with unrestrained hatred. Several warts were on its face, and floppy ears stuck out from its Romanesque helmet. Serrated, yellow teeth stuck out from its dried, bulbous lips.

"Fuck," Dresden spat. "Goblins." He reached out with his staff and burned the goblin to a crisp.

"No," Potter countered, "Those aren't goblins. I've _seen_ goblins before-"

"Well, welcome to my world. Behind you!"

Harry whirled and shouted, "_Repello!_" Another goblin, this one was smaller and gripping a gleaming dagger, snarled and spat in a foreign tongue as it was sent hurtling back into the air. Harry flourished his wand.

"_Reducto!_"

The small goblin's body fragmented, its thin frame cracking like a bag of meat hit by a wrecking ball. Its eyes widened, and then rolled over as its corpse hit the ground with a splat.

"Neat trick," Dresden murmured, somewhat enviously.

"Is that all?" Harry gasped, wiping his brow with his shirt sleeve. "Did we get them?"

"Hold on there, Horatio Nelson," Dresden replied, his dark eyes scanning the area. "They have one spell caster, and goblins usually travel in packs over six. We're not there yet."

"Brilliant," Potter sighed. "Just brilliant."

Just as he finished his exhalation, two more goblins came scampering out of the shadows, red eyes gleaming and weapons shining. Dresden gave a fierce battle-cry and brought his staff down, almost cracking the pavement below. A wave of kinetic energy slammed into the first goblin, a medium-sized brute with a battle-axe, and sent him squealing to the ground. The second once, a lean devil grasping twin knives, licked its lips and lunged forward, at Potter.

"_Bombarda_!"

The goblin screeched as an explosion bloomed in its face. It stumbled backwards, clutching its scorched, unrecognizable face. Harry sent another blasting curse, and the beast was done for. "That's four," he said, "Two more, I guess."

A shadow bore down on the pair, followed with a horrible screech and the sound of leathery wings. Harry dove out of the way, clutching his wand to his chest. He heard Dresden curse, and the sound of talons ripping into cloth and skin. He turned, seeing the PI struggling with an emaciated…woman…with bat-like wings and sharp talons. It was bald, and its skin was scaled like a lizard. Yellow eyes gleamed with fury and hunger as it attempted to tear Dresden's face off.

"_Flipendo!_" Harry cried out hoarsely.

The creature hissed as it was sent flipping into the air, its limbs sprawling out of control. Dresden clutched his arm, blood seeping out from between his fingers. He lifted his rod and screamed, "_Fuego_!"

A beam of fire, this one as thin as a pencil but hot as the sun, lanced out and struck the winged menace in the sternum. The monster cried out in pain once, but death overtook it before it could even leave its throat. The creature fell to the parking lot, immobile. The auror helped Dresden up, but he shook him off.

"'Tis a flesh wound," he grunted. "There's one more goblin, and a spell caster. I say we split up."

"I say we stay here," Harry replied, staring incredulously at the other wizard. "Seriously, 'split up'? You're wounded, and we're much better off together-"

"Fine, fine," Dresden snapped. He grinned wolfishly at the British man. "You know, if you didn't want to split up, you could've just invited me over for dinner-"

"We don't have time for this!"

There was an ear-shattering roar, and both wizards turned to see the largest goblin they had ever encountered. It was encased in the same black armor the others donned, but huge spikes jutted out from the shoulders and kneecaps. Malevolent, ruby eyes leered out from the shadows of the helmet it wore, and a massive war hammer was clutched in one gloved claw. It roared once more, its fangs as large as a bear's. Harry looked at Harry.

"This _is_ your city," Potter mumbled.

"Yeah," Dresden scoffed uncertainly, "but you _are_ my guest. I would be rude to deny you this splendid opportunity."

"Right, but you-"

"Screw it, I'll go first. _Forzare!_"

Another invisible wave of kinetic energy slammed into the uber-goblin, but it shrugged it off as if it were the breeze. It huffed in amusement and walked on. Dresden cursed and started looking around, his head whipping back and forth.

"What are you looking for?" Potter hissed.

"Iron," Dresden hissed back. "All faeries hate iron. Damn it, I should've brought my revolver…"

The goblin roared once again, and this time it started to run. Dresden looked up and let out a string of expletives so bad Harry flinched.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

The hammer smashed into the pavement. The force was so destructive that both wizards were sent flying; the auror landed a few ways off, and Dresden slammed into the bumper of his car. The goblin lifted his weapon, bits of concrete and dust falling off its rectangular face. A decent crater was imprinted where the wizards had stood only moments before. The goblin gave a malicious grin and lifted his hammer again.

"Dresden!" the auror warned. The PI shook himself off and jumped out of harm's way as the hammer came down. There was a resounding boom, and the Blue Beetle flipped in the air and landed on its hood with a metallic screech. Dresden screamed something unintelligibly and started to let loose a barrage of kinetic attacks that sent the goblin stumbling backwards, but still relatively unharmed. As Dresden beat it back, Harry spied something lying beside a gutter. He bent over and picked it up.

It was a crowbar, probably left by some miscreant after a mugging. Dried blood caked its sharp tip, and the wizard realized that it was made of iron. He grinned and turned back to the fight.

"Dresden! Distract it as best as you can!" he called.

"FUCK YOU!"

Potter licked his lips and tossed the crowbar into the air. He flourished his wand as the tool reached its peak, and whispered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The crowbar hovered mid-air, and Harry's grin widened. He levitated the crowbar until it floated just above the uber-goblin's armored back. The beast had turned the tables on Dresden: He was repeatedly pounding the ground with his hammer, but the PI elusively avoided each blow.

"Anytime now!" the PI gasped.

Harry dropped the crowbar.

The iron tool slipped into the crevice between the creature's neck and breastplate, disappearing into the goblin's armor. It let loose a terrible howl of anguish as the hot metal touched its skin. It ignored Dresden and dropped its hammer, squirming as it attempted to get the crowbar off its back. In its panic, it unclasped its breastplate, leaving its entire green torso bare and vulnerable. It sighed in relief as the tool clattered to the ground.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Lacerations appeared all over the uber-goblin's muscular waist, tracing around and around like some disturbing calligraphy. Blood spurted from the wounds, and skin split until the thin layer of yellow fat dripped from its insides. It dropped with a boom, twitching on the ground until it was still. Harry slumped, his wand held weakly at his side.

"You did it," Dresden managed to croak. "You killed it."

"Yeah," Potter sighed. "Whoopie."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

We found the wizard lying behind a garbage bin. It was easy enough; the trail of blood was evident against the gray sidewalk. He had tried to fight back, but I had slammed my boot down on his hand before he could grip his staff. I asked the auror if he could freeze everything on the man's body expect his eyes and mouth, and he obliged, flicking his wand like a fairy godmother. The wizard was bald, the smell of cheap beer on his breath. Black eyes flickered nervously from me to my newfound ally.

It was the second time I interrogated a person in the past week. "Who sent you?"

The man spat a gob of blood on my cheek.

He was asking for it.

I clutched the man's injured shoulder, which was charred from my incendiary attack from before. He gritted his teeth. I gripped him harder. He let loose a strangled groan, but I continued to squeeze.

"AARGH! OK, for God's sake! It was the shadow man! Nicodemus! Let go!"

I didn't.

"Were you here to kill us?" Potter asked, his body rigid.

"No, we were sent to invite you over for tea-AARRGH! Yes, we were sent to kill you!" He had a British accent, Cockney. What a surprise.

"Who are you?" I asked, not letting up.

"GOYLE! Me name's Goyle!"

"How'd you get the goblins and the harpy, Goyle?" I inquired, although I probably knew the answer.

"Shadow man said that some bloke named the Erlking pitched in! Said he had a bone to pick with you!"

I cursed. Potter looked at me.

"You know him?"

"Yeah. Faerie lord. Equal, in terms of power, to Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Magical heavyweight."

"How'd you make him your enemy?"

I shrugged. "I didn't let him eat me."

I could feel the auror's stare, but I continued to press on the injured man's wound. Goyle's gaze faltered as he turned to look at the other Harry.

"Shite," he hissed. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Potter smiled cheekily. "Is it your business, Goyle?"

"You little brat, I swore to kill you for what you did to my son-"

I socked him on the face. The would-be assassin slumped, unconscious. I stood and wiped my hands. "You know him?"

"Old enemy. He thinks I killed his son."

I looked at him. "Did you?"

"No, but he was the kind of prick that made you wish you did."

For the first time in a long time, I laughed.

**AN: Thanks for reading! As always, PLEASE R&R! No flames, pleaassee!**


	5. Plans, Plans, Plans

**AN: No. I am not deceased or terminally ill. Well, if you count writer's block as terminally ill, then yes, I have. Anyways, here it is. Fifth chapter. Not as great as I wanted it to be, but oh well. Please, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own squat.**

**Reviewers: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING FAITHFUL TO HIS FANFIC AND REVIEWING SO GREATLY! It means a lot, I can tell you that. I hope you continue to do so. Fanficfreak: Harry was slightly amused by Dresden and Murphy's actions, and he isn't the paranoid type. He wasn't expecting the sleeping spell, and those are far more subtle than a killing curse. Also, Dresden's office is not his house. He lives in a separate apartment. Murphy with a shotgun, I admit, is a bit random, but she is a police officer, and those who visit Harry's office are not the most amiable of types, I'd imagine. Thanks for reviewing, though! I hope I hear from you again! From all of you, in fact . **

The car stopped by the curb. I turned and glared at the weary Brit.

"You sure you want to stop by here?"

Potter wasn't facing me; he was busy staring at the archetype of an American home that stood pleasantly in front of us. Rude.

"You sure this is it?"

I scoffed. "Well, Harry, I've just been the man's friend for, I don't know, over five years so I can't be _too_ sure where he goddamn-"

"I get it. If you'll excuse me…"

He opened the passenger door and walked out. The Blue Beetle shifted slightly as the weight disappeared. I frowned. Heavier than I expected; the man didn't look so muscular on the outside. The auror (whatever that was) opened the white-picket fence door and strolled down the path. He knocked on the door.

I closed my eyes and lay back. One fight and you're already bushed, Dresden? What would the old geezer say? I felt a smile tug on my lips, but I was just too damn tired to let it show.

Without a moment's notice, I fell asleep.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Harry knocked on the door.

He heard a faint "I'll get it!" from the other side. The sounds of footsteps upon wood grew steadily louder, and the doorknob turned. The door opened.

A woman with long blonde hair and attractive features met gazes with him. Suspicion boiled in brilliant blue eyes as she appraised the auror. She was dressed in simple blue jeans and a gray shirt that read: WOMAN OF CHRIST in bold white letters.

"Who are you?" she asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion from her voice.

Harry tried a friendly smile. What with all the soot on his face and clothing, he didn't think it gave the right aura. "Hello. Mrs. Carpenter, I presume?"

The suspicion heightened. Harry couldn't help but notice the woman's posture shift ever so slightly, her legs shoulder-width and barring entrance into the house. Lightly muscled arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"Yes. I'll ask again, who are you?"

"My name is Harry Potter. I met your husband in Britain not too long ago, and I was just stopping by to see if I could have a word with him. Would that be alright?"

The woman wasn't impressed. Harry could hear the gears churning in her head as she surveyed him. Harry's heart fell as she began to shake her head.

"I don't think now's the right time to stop by. Although, I was curious as to how you found us."

"Mr. Dresden showed me the way. He said he was a family friend?"

The look on Mrs. Carpenter's face told Harry all he needed to know. _Family friend indeed_. The door was just about to be slammed in his face when an authoritative voice yelled out, "Wait!"

Michael Carpenter came to the doorway, his face flushed. Sweat glistened on his overly muscular physique, staining his shirt and wetting his forehead. He greeted Harry with a smile.

"Mr. Potter!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand. Harry resisted the urge to flinch at the man's powerful grip. "I wasn't expecting you, but by all means, come in."

The couple exchanged a glance. Mrs. Carpenter frowned, but Michael was adamant. Harry gave a small grin. He knew that look. When a mere glance between loved ones consisted for a whole conversation. God knows how many times he had done it with Ginny.

Michael returned his focus onto Harry and let him in. The auror walked inside the Carpenter household. It was all very old-fashioned and pristine. Not a blemish could be seen on the polished mahogany. It was obvious that Michael ran a tight regime, but from the laughter floating in from the backyard, not an austere one.

Michael had walked upstairs to change clothing while Harry casually observed the house, and now he was back, this time wearing a black shirt and roughed-up jeans. Charity had stormed into the kitchen a while back, taking care not to acknowledge Harry's presence.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "I was playing with the kids outside."

"Not at all, Mr. Carpenter," Harry replied.

"Please, call me Michael." A warm smile. "Only people who aren't my friends call me Mr. Carpenter."

Harry was astounded at the man's blatant affability. He had only seen him once before and now they were friends? Harry was, of course, flattered by the remark, but surprised all the same. Harry smiled back.

"I'm awfully sorry about Charity," Michael said, leading him into a separate room that contained a small table with five chairs. A picture of a beautiful garden hung on the far wall, and a large cabinet stood beside the open window. Golden sunlight streamed in and basked the two men in a hazy glow. They sat down. "She can be very suspicious at times."

"I don't blame her," Harry commented. "If I saw someone in a state as I am I'd have called the authorities."

Michael laughed his booming laugh. "It's not that, Harry, but I'm sure that gave her quite a shock."

Harry couldn't resist a chuckle himself. He was beginning to really like this man.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

My afternoon nap was rudely disrupted by the sound of merry laughter.

I have never hated happiness so much as I did at that moment.

"Hell's bells," I groaned, wiping my all-too bleary eyes. I looked out the passenger window to see, get this, Michael Carpenter and the embodiment of all that was stuck-up and arrogant laughing as if they were old chaps.

I frowned. That didn't look right. Something stirred in my gut. My frown deepened. Michael was my friend, and I won't be having this intruder buttering up _my_ damn friends-

"Jealous, o host?" Lasciel crooned amusedly.

"Holy-!" I yelped, whacking my head against the Beetle's ceiling. I cursed, nursing my aching skull. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that?"

Lasciel laughed, the sound like chiming bells. She was in her usual attire: a slim Greek-like tunic strapped at the shoulder by a golden clasp. The hem of the dress left little to the imagination, and I couldn't resist ogling at the pair of deliciously tanned thighs crossed before me. She reveled in the attention, toying with a strand of crimson hair. I noted this change, not exactly disapproving.

"You were a blonde last time," I remarked.

"Too many blondes in your life, Dresden. I wanted to, ah, _spice_ things up."

I gulped. "Did you, now?" I was aiming for demanding, but I sounded like a parched toad. _She's a figment of your imagination, Harry. _

Lasciel smiled sultrily and leaned in.

I imagined a bucket of ice cold water unloading itself on my nether regions, and my libido retreated fast enough for me to push the fallen angel away, albeit a little reluctantly.

"Not so fast, Lash," I said, frowning.

Her eyes sparked. "Damn. I almost had you."

I bared my teeth. "Almost."

I waited for her to simmer down. Hell, I needed a little cool down myself. She leaned back in the chair, stretching like a jungle cat. I swallowed as certain anatomical structures shifted with her movements. She might've been a timeless, evil angel from Hell, capable of extreme destruction, but damn she was hot. No pun intended. And well-endowed, I might add. _Thank God for that_.

I shook my head.

"Stop doing that!" I snapped.

She laughed once more. "My my, Harry, you're high-strung. Is it the English mage that has you so tense?"

I bit my lip, glancing at the pair talking beside the window. "Maybe, maybe not. It's none of your business, anyways."

I almost didn't notice, but she slightly inclined her head towards the open window, an amused expression on her lovely face. I worked my jaw.

"Go away."

"As you wish, my host."

The image of the angel vanished, and I was left alone to my thoughts.

Just myself and my car.

Alone.

I hadn't felt so lonely in a _long_ time.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Harry sipped the hot tea, feeling the delectable liquid run down his throat. He sighed.

"You must thank Charity for this," he remarked. "This tea is exquisite."

Michael smiled, sipping on his own cup. "She's an expert at this kind of stuff. She'll be happy you thanked her."

Harry grinned. "Anything to get in her good graces."

"Trust me, my wife might seem hard, but she's a loving person at heart. Certain events in her life have caused her to be so mistrusting." There was a touch of sadness in the man's voice.

Harry nodded knowingly. "I don't blame her. Being the wife of someone involved in your line of work gives her every reason to be."

Michael returned the nod, setting the tea down on the table and crossing his legs. He looked at Harry. "I have enjoyed this talk immensely, Harry, but I don't think you've stopped by for a mere tea time with the Carpenters."

Harry had almost forgotten about that. He put the cup down. "No. I didn't. First of all, is this the safest place to talk?"

Michael pursed his lips. "I'm fairly certain we are more than secure, but just to be sure…"

The big man rose and closed the windows. Harry noted a small hesitation as he looked out the nearly transparent glass. Michael sat back down and took another sip of his tea.

"I take it that was Dresden outside?" he asked quietly.

"Right you are. He drove me here."

Michael nodded. "He is one of my closest friends, but the very presence of the man means that this talk will be going an unpleasant direction, yes?"

Harry sighed.

"Don't get me wrong," Michael added hastily. "I love him like a brother. It's just that-"

"He gets into all sorts of trouble?"

"Yes."

"Trouble, like getting ambushed by a group of goblins, a harpy, and a rogue wizard?"

Michael's ruggedly handsome face hardened. "That's Dresden, alright."

"This time I was with him."

Michael fixed him a serious glare. "Nicodemus."

Harry nodded.

The knight rose from his seat, crossing the small room and making sure the door was locked. He rested his back on the oaken exit and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes closed. Michael's lips were moving soundlessly, and Harry turned away in embarrassment. He wasn't a very religious man, needless to say, but he knew when to give a man some privacy, especially during prayer. A while later, Michael opened his eyes and returned to his seat. His eyes were like chips of flint.

"Nicodemus is here again."

Harry coughed, spilling some tea on his shirt. "I-I'm sorry, but how could you make such an assumption so quickly?"

The Knight of the Cross fixed him a look.

Harry nodded, although without a trace of skepticism. "I see. And has He told you other valuable tidbits of information?"

Michael shook his head slowly. "He works in mysterious ways, my friend. Who am I to trace his actions?"

Harry worked his jaw. "Of course."

Michael tilted his head. "You are not a believer?"

"One cannot be so sure now, as I am sitting in front of the very Fist of God."

Michael laughed once more. A genuine laugh, devoid of the anguish and trouble burdening him not a moment ago. "Odd. You aren't the only one who calls me that."

Harry finished his tea. "Who might that be?"

Michael gestured to the window.

He choked, the tea threatening to spill from his mouth once again. Harry wiped his mouth, frowning. "Forgive me, but I quail at the thought of ever being like that uncouth man."

Michael smiled. "He's not the most polite of men, but he's one of the best I know. He'll warm up to you if you get to know him."

A wry smile. "I'm sure."

"Anyways, we cannot avoid the fact of that worm's presence in Chicago. A presence we worked so hard to get rid of."

It was Harry's turn to tilt his head. "He's been here before?"

Michael nodded gravely. His eyes steeled as painful memories flooded back in an ugly torrent. "He has. The last time he was here we barely escaped with our lives." He frowned. "We lost one of our own."

Harry knew the feeling. "I'm sorry."

The knight sighed. "He is with the Lord. I envy him."

Harry was quite amazed at the man's devoutness. He was never fond of the overtly religious types, but Michael was calm in his conviction, at peace. Nothing seemed to perturb him save for the endangerment of his loved ones. This was a man he could admire.

"I want you to join me."

Michael opened his eyes and stared at him.

"I need you to join me. I can't defeat Nicodemus alone. I couldn't even blooming beat him with a handful of other aurors. You're the only one I can rely on."

Michael mulled the proposition over in his head. Harry crossed his fingers and sent up a quick prayer.

The big knight nodded.

"I'll do what I can."

Harry smiled. "I knew you'd come through."

"However, you were wrong on one assumption."

Harry's face fell. "Oh?"

Michael grinned. "I'm not the only one."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

If you've ever awoken to a muscular man with a crazy grin staring straight at you in the face, you'll relate to my reaction.

"Aaaghabutkandjd!"

I groped for my blasting rod. The huge man chortled amiably and opened the door.

"Nice to see you again, Harry."

My muddled mind cleared enough for me to recognize the man beside my car.

"Is that the best way to awaken your friend, you big lard?" I muttered as I stumbled out of the Beetle.

He beamed. "Oh, it _is_ nice to see you again."

He embraced me warmly.

Now, if you've ever been hugged by a man the size of a genetically augmented grizzly bear, you'll once again relate to my reaction.

"Ugghhaaaa…" I moaned as my bones creaked under his hold.

After a hellacious moment, he released me. I set a hand on my chest and exhaled steadily.

"You bastard," I wheezed. I smiled despite myself. "How've you been, Michael?"

"Good. My children are happy, and my wife is the greatest woman in the world. God has blessed me."

"Huh. Seems I got skipped over in his Holy Delegations of Fortunate Blessings. A.k.a, favoritism."

"Nonsense, Harry, all you need to do is-"

"Ahem."

We turned to see Potter approaching us, his arms folded across his chest. Charity was standing at the doorway, looking at us all suspiciously. I waved cheerfully and gave the brightest smile I could conjure.

"Heya, Charity! How're you-?"

The door slammed shut.

Rude as ever. No one seemed to appreciate my friendliness and general lovability these days. I faced Potter and spread my arms wide.

"How 'bout some lovin', toots?" I said in my best East Coast accent.

He looked at me as if I had offered him rotten milk.

Sheesh. What'd I say? No. Love.

"So…" I offered. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere," Michael stated, sitting on the curb next to his charming little mailbox. "We're staying right here."

Before Potter or I could say anything else, a bright yellow taxi came screeching down the street. It stopped, and the door immediately opened, revealing a huge black man in a purple shirt and faded jeans. He stood to his full height, which would've made André the Giant look like a hairy munchkin, and greeted us with a shiny smile. I'm serious. His immaculate pearly whites would've reflected the fricking Death Star energy beam.

Hey. Don't act like you haven't made silly Star Wars references off the top of your head before.

"Hello, my friends!" The Russian accent hadn't lessened one bit, fortunately. "My flight got delayed, and I had to come and give you all greetings!"

Potter began to sputter uncontrollably. I rolled my eyes. "It's one of those God things. We wouldn't understand, being demonic practitioners of the Devil's art."

Before I knew, I was enveloped in yet another hug. Plus, two wet smooches on the cheek. It's a Russian thing. While I was busy trying to erase all evidence of unmanliness on my abused frame, Potter approached us.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

The man arched an eyebrow. "Funny. Was just about to ask same thing."

Michael stood between them. "Sanya, this is Harry, Harry, this is Sanya."

Sanya tilted his head. "There are two Harry's, now?"

"One's just slightly cooler than the other," I interjected. "Don't worry, if we just leave him out of conversations we can conserve our manliness before it's too late."

The Brit rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Dresden. I'm positively _dying_ from laughter."

I smiled. "It's not my birthday yet, but…"

Michael stepped in between us. He was still standing in between Sanya and Potter, though, so it looked like he was doing some sort of complex Taebo position. I don't think he seemed to mind.

"Sanya, Nicodemus is back." Straight to the point.

The Russian's face darkened. "I had feeling the scum was near. We must not let him get away this time."

Michael slowly lifted a hand before anyone of us could talk. "Now that we're all here, I think it is best that we return to the house. That way, any prying ears will be left unsatisfied."

"Your logic is sound. Come," I said, "To the Carpenter household!"

"If you're trying to mimic my accent, Mr. Dresden, you're doing a very poor job."

"Cease your blithering, scoundrel! I do not consort with cockeyed sods like you! Let us go!"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Sanya, the second Knight of the Cross, Harry had learned, continued to pace back and forth across the dining room, his gigantic hands folded behind his broad back.

"It not make sense," he rumbled. "Why does the scum come here so soon?"

Michael, who was seated at the head of the long mahogany table, shook his head. "I do not know. The only logical assumption we can make right now is that he is here to kill Harry and Harry. Er, Dresden and Potter."

Dresden, whose feet were resting on the table top, sighed. "Been there, done that. Nicodemus should be getting awfully tired of killing me and failing."

"This time, however, he's not just out for you, Harry. He wants our English friend, too, apparently."

Harry nodded. "Ever since I saw him on Lady Holme he's been trying to do me in. Is it because I witnessed his little ritual?"

"Perhaps," Michael mused, stroking his chin. "I am still curious about the sacrifices." He looked at Potter fixedly. "What did he saw again, before he was about to slay the poor girl?"

The auror furrowed his brow, trying hard to remember the words. "I don't remember exactly, but it was something about…oh, I forget."

Dresden exhaled. "Great."

Potter glared at him. He returned it.

"Hey!" Michael barked. "Lock it down, the both of you."

Potter nodded in consent and turned away from the other. Dresden merely rolled his eyes and carefully examined a crack on the wall. Michael shook his head in frustration.

"So," Sanya put in, breaking the awkward silence. "What's the plan?"

Michael sighed wearily. "I don't know."

The front door opened, and in walked the strangest looking young woman Harry Potter has ever seen in his life.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Hey there, sensei," Molly Carpenter greeted amiably. She was biting on an apple as she strolled into the dining room. "Didn't find you at the HQ."

"We're a bit busy here, grasshopper," I replied, looking at her sternly. "Maybe another time?"

Molly rolled her eyes. Hm. I wonder where she got that from. "Hardly. Since Sanya's here, there's bound to be some Denarian powder keg just waiting to be ignited like a-" She seemed to notice our new guest for the first time. "Oh. Who's this?"

I love the munchkin. I really do. Like a friend and pupil, of course. However, one thing I'm not afraid to say (as long as I'm a two or three mile radius away from Charity and her endless supply of Items to Hurt Harry Dresden With) is that Molly's got a rockin' body. I mean, what with the long blonde hair and lithe frame, she resembled some sort of Scandinavian goddess. Her choice of attire didn't seem to downplay this at all. As always, she wore a torn, loose shirt that left appealing bits of a fit, tanned torso to the roving eye. Tight cut-off jeans covered her lower body, revealing toned thighs that caused many a deprived man to get caught staring at by their demanding wives. Her hair was dyed, of course, purple bits at the end to display her angsty teenage rebellion.

At the sight of our British guest, (who was, although I hate to say it, _kind of _attractive, I guess, to women at least. It must've been the scruffy hair and green eyes. Damn my genes) she shifted into what I called her Seducer-mode. Well, I had another name for it, but let's not get too dirty. Anyways, she would slide her hips to the side, place a delicate hand on her muscular waist, and thrust out her chest, which was, due to empirical investigation by scholarly observers, quite ample.

Harry frowned.

Well. That wasn't what I expected. I was expecting more of an embarrassed flush, followed by quick looks to the side, and a sudden outbreak of sweat all across the body.

Michael stood up, his Baptist preacher/father mode activated. "Molly Carpenter," he said very quietly. You know when your parents' are _really _angry not when they scream from the top of their lungs, but when they adopt this low, wavering tone that sends chills down your spine. Justin DuMorne wasn't exactly a parent, but I got plenty of that growing up. "Go up to your room this instant."

Molly sighed and started to walk away, but not without giving Potter a lingering glance. The Brit tried to ignore her as best as he could, suddenly finding interest on a scuff on the floor. I give the guy props. Not many could fully withstand the power of Molly's Seducer-mode.

When she disappeared, her father sighed once again. "My apologies, Harry. My daughter can be…problematic."

Potter shrugged, although he looked slightly perturbed. "Not at all, Michael."

We talked some more, never actually getting to the point of finding a solution. All we could to was guesswork since we didn't have any substantial proof before us. I offered to employ the help of Murphy and others to get this thing done with, and we agreed. Without anything to go on, we couldn't really find Nicodemus and take him head-on.

So, it was done.

Well, it should've been when a half-dead man popped up out of nowhere and landed on Michael's dinner table with a cringe-inducing splat.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The shock of red hair was a give-away to Potter the instant the man had landed. He froze. His heart stopped. His eyes grew very wide.

_Ron_.

"Ron!" Harry voiced, rushing to the bloody mess that was his best friend. His clothes were in veritable tatters, stained with the scarlet blood and dirt. Ron's face was puffy and bruised, as was most of his body. He was limp in Harry's arms as he held him close.

"Harry," he croaked weakly. "Harry…"

The others had recovered from their shock long enough to act. Michael raced out of the room, calling for Charity and his other family members. Sanya grabbed a hold of Ron's lower body and helped Harry lift him up. Ron groaned.

Dresden helped carry the half-dead man as they transported him to a room Michael had just recently opened. Several kids of varying ages were watching the procession with very wide eyes. _Michael's children_, Harry deduced. They gently set him on the bed. Harry took out his wand and began to recite healing incantations.

"_Vulnera sanenture_," he whispered, the tip of his wand glowing bright as a strand of energy treated Ron's horrible gashes. "_Vulnera sanenture_."

The others watched him in fascination as the auror healed his friend. Dresden had never seen this type of healing magic before. The mending of the cuts were near-instantaneous, fixing the lacerations as if they were not there at all. Harry sensed another presence enter the room, but he took not notice. All he needed to look after was his dying friend.

Questions raced through his mind, but healing was the priority. He muttered more spells, continuing for what seemed like an hour before all the major wounds had been dealt with. He sighed, stood up, and stretched wearily. Harry looked around. It seemed the others had left him during the process. Harry frowned and checked his watch.

_8:41_.

He had no idea he had been there that long. He was about to leave when a hand grasped for him weakly. He whirled, startled to see a conscious Ron groping for him.

"Bloody hell, Ron," Harry whispered, kneeling by his friend in a flash. "What happened to you?"

Ron coughed up a speck of blood. "D-Don't know, exactly. I left home for work when I was I d-decided to cross an alley, y'know, as a shortcut-"

He coughed horrible, his face stretched tight in torment. Harry rubbed his shoulders, muttering a spell to clear Ron's throat. "Go on," he encouraged.

"They attacked me," he wheezed. "Out of bloody nowhere, they attacked me. I tried to f-fight back, but there were too many. The only thing on my mind as I was dying was…was…"

"Me," Harry finished, tears welling in his eyes,

Ron met his gaze, fresh tears already flowing down his pale cheeks. "Y-Yeah. I don't know exactly what happened, it's a damn mystery to me, but I apparated."

Harry frowned. "And you somehow ended up here."

Ron nodded slowly.

This wasn't natural. You couldn't apparate to a person if you didn't know their exact location. It was literally unheard of. Harry bit his lip. Something weird was going on here.

"Harry," Ron said, startling him.

"Yes?"

"They're not just after me," he said, his eyes wide with fright.

Harry's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

Ron clasped Harry's hand tightly. Harry looked down.

Ron's bloody thumb was slowly rubbing against Harry's golden wedding ring.

_Ginny._

_Oh no._

_ Oh, God no._

They were after his family.

**AN: Very rushed and confusing, I know. But it was all a bout of sudden inspiration could give me. Sorry there was no battle scenes, though. There's bound to be mistakes, so please address them if you find them! As always, please R&R! (NO FLAMES)**


End file.
